HADY 


vT- 


& 

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THE  LADY  CHARLOTTE. 


THE 

LADY  CHARLOTTE 


BY 

ADELINE    SERGEANT, 

AUTHOR  OF 

'JACOBI'S  WIFE,"   "DEVERIL'S  DIAMOND,"  "BROOKE'S  DAUGHTER,' 

"WINIFRED'S  WOOING,"  "SEVENTY  TIMES  SEVEN,"  "NO 

SAINT,"  "THE  MISTRESS  OF  QUEST,"  "THE 

STORY  OF  A  PENITENT  SOUL." 


CHICAGO  AND  NEW  YORK: 
RAND,  McNALLY  &  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  Rand,  McNally  &  Co. 


THE  LADY  CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  I. 
COUSINS. 

"You  seem  to  have  made  yourself  pretty  snug  down 
here!''  said  Arthur  Ellison,  stretching  his  limbs  com- 
fortably over  the  chintz-covered  sofa,  and  settling  his 
fair  head  into  the  solitary  cushion  with  which  his  cou- 
sin had  provided  him. 

"Why  shouldn't  I?"  said  Esther,  a  little  sharply,  as 
if  she  discerned  a  possible  reproach  in  the  words. 

"No  reason  in  the  world.    I  may  smoke,  I  suppose?" 

And  without  waiting  for  her  consent,  he  exerted 
himself  so  far  as  to  extract  a  cigarette  from  a  silver 
case,  and  to  light  it  with  a  fusee  which  diffused  a  pleas- 
ant aromatic  odor  through  the  room.  Esther  watched 
him  silently,  with  a  doubtful  look.  When  the  cigar- 
ette was  well  alight  between  his  lips,  he  laid  his  left 
arm  behind  his  head,  and  surveyed  the  apartment  with 
an  air  of  quizzical  satisfaction. 

It  was  a  fair-sized  room,  but  with  a  low  ceiling, 
across  which  ran  a  broad  whitewashed  beam;  the  case- 
ment windows  had  diamond  panes,  and  evidently 


2: 


99Q90 


6  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

opened  into  a  garden,  for  sprays  of  jessamine  and  rose 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  force  their  way  across  the  low 
wooden  sill.  It  had,  to  some  eyes,  a  rustic,  old-fash- 
ioned charm,  emphasized  by  the  wooden  paneling  and 
rudely  carved  mantel-piece,  now  dark  with  age ;  by  the 
red  tiles  of  the  floor,  where  the  carpet  left  them  ex- 
posed, and  the  gleaming  brass  of  the  high  fender. 
There  were  quaint  old  engravings  on  the  walls,  in 
black  frames,  and  some  curious  and  rather  valuable 
china  on  the  mantel-shelf.  Fortunately,  the  farmer's 
wife  to  whom  the  room  belonged  had  not  modified  its 
general  aspect  of  old-world  simplicity  by  any  attempt 
at  modern  fashions;  and  the  utmost  that  Miss  Ellison, 
her  lodger,  had  done  by  way  of  alteration  was  to  hide 
some  faded  upholstery  with  loose  chintz  covers  of 
artistic  design,  and  to  fill  every  available  jug,  vase  and 
basin  with  flowers  and  leaves  and  grasses  of  all  kinds. 
When  she  had  arranged  her  books  on  a  side-table, 
and  stacked  her  papers  neatly  on  each  side  of  the 
great  inkstand,  Esther  felt  that  the  room  left  nothing 
to  be  desired. 

Esther  Ellison's  face  and  figure  were  not  out  of 
place,  even  in  this  rustic  environment,  although  she 
knew  less  of  the  country  than  of  the  town.  One  could 
imagine  that  she  would  be  by  nature  a  lover  of  out- 
door things,  of  trees  and  flowers,  birds  and  beasts. 
She  was  not  very  tall,  but  she  was  lithe  and  strong, 
and  her  movements  had  the  quick  alertness  of  some 
wild  creature  rather  than  the  more  languid  grace  of  a 
town-bred  girl.  She  had  a  grace  of  her  own,  but  to 
the  trained  eye,  it  was  too  unconventional;  it  had 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  7 

the  swiftness  of  the  swallow's  flight,  the  aloofness  of 
the  untamable  woodland  bird.  Her  complexion  was 
as  brown  as  a  gypsy's,  melting  into  a  rich  crimson  in 
the  cheeks,  intensified  by  the  deeper  red  of  her  curved 
mouth  with  its  rather  pouting  lips ;  her  eyes  were  dark 
and  brilliant,  between  two  rows  of  curling  black  lashes ; 
her  hair,  cut  short  and  slightly  parted  on  one  side,  like 
a  boy's,  curled  all  over  her  small  and  prettily-shaped 
head.  There  were  dimples  in  her  cheek  and  chin  which 
seemed,  somehow,  to  match  the  sparkle  in  her  eyes; 
but  there  was  none  of  the  plumpness  which  one  might 
have  expected  with  the  physique  that  she  possessed; 
indeed,  she  was  quite  too  thin  for  beauty,  and  the  little 
nervous  brown  hands  which  were  clasped  before  her 
on  the  table,  were  undeniably  claw-like.  Her  face,  her 
figure,  her  usual  attitude,  expressed  vivacity  and  eager- 
ness amounting  to  passion;  she  could  be  brilliantly 
handsome  and  attractive  at  times,  but  she  could  also 
sink  into  absolute  insignificance.  When  she  lost  her 
color  and  her  eyes  were  dim  and  her  small  features  at 
rest,  she  was  merely  a  little  plain  brown  person  with  a 
clever  look,  a  shabby  frock,  and  an  appearance  of  age 
not  justified  by  her  three  and  twenty  years.  She  de- 
pended on  her  health,  her  spirits,  and  her  surroundings 
for  her  good  looks. 

Arthur  Ellison  knew  this  very  well,  and  commented 
on  it  to  himself  as  he  lay  and  looked  at  her  and  at  the 
room.  The  rustic  background  set  her  off  very  well, 
he  thought  approvingly.  Esther's  dark  head  and  vivid 
coloring  were  finely  relieved  against  the  yellow-brown 
of  the  paneled  wall.  It  was  a  pity  that  she  sometimes 


8  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

lost  her  color  when  she  was  in  London.  The  country 
air  suited  her  better. 

He  said  so  aloud. 

"Why?"  Esther  asked  immediately. 

"Does  it  need  saying?  Your  eyes  are  bright  and 
your  color  is  good:  two  things  which  show  that  you 
are  happy  and  prosperous." 

"Is  it  not  time  that  I  was  prosperous  after  the  years 
of  hard  work  I  have  had?" 

Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Prosperity  does 
not  always  follow  on  toil,"  he  remarked  sententiously. 
"Look  at  me." 

"I  do  look  at  you,"  said  Esther  laughing.  "And 
I  observe  no  special  signs  of  toil  about  you." 

She  laughed,  though  with  some  reserve  of  manner, 
as  though  she  thought  more  than  she  meant  to  say; 
but  Arthur  remained  grave.  He  altered  his  posi- 
tion, bringing  his  feet  to  the  floor  and  resting  his 
head  on  one  hand  while  he  kept  his  eyes  on  his  brown 
boots  as  though  in  profound  meditation  concerning 
their  shape  and  color.  During  the  short  silence  that 
followed,  Esther  observed  him  keenly,  and  somewhat 
furtively.  There  was  a  touch  of  anxiety  in  the  knit 
of  her  eyebrows  and  the  set  of  her  red  lips. 

He  was  not  in  her  eyes  an  unpleasing  specimen  of 
humanity  to  contemplate,  but  he  could  not  be  called 
a  handsome  man.  He  was  rather  under  middle-height, 
and  slightly  built;  his  hair  and  skin  were  fair,  and 
his  eyes  a  brilliant  but  somewhat  chilly  blue.  The  at- 
tractiveness of  his  appearance  consisted  chiefly  in  the 
refinement  and  intelligence  of  his  face;  his  features 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  9 

were  clearly  and  delicately  cut,  and  denoted  intellect 
above  the  average.  But  it  was  not  a  strong  face,  and 
it  was  undeniably  a  cold  one;  thereby  differing  in  es- 
sentials from  that  of  Esther  which  expressed  warmth, 
perhaps,  first  of  all,  and  strength  next. 

Unlike  as  they  might  be,  they  were  first  cousins 
and  had  been  brought  up  together,  until,  as  their 
friends  and  they  themselves  averred,  they  were  more 
like  brother  and  sister  than  cousins.  At  seventeen 
and  one  and  twenty  respectively,  they  fell  in  love  with 
each  other,  were  engaged,  and  fell  out  again  with 
remarkable  rapidity;  the  engagement  was  dissolved, 
but  the  habit  of  comradeship  only  interrupted  and 
never  broken.  For  a  time,  however,  they  saw  little 
of  each  other.  They  were  alone  in  the  world,  and 
had  nobody  to  interfere  with  them.  Arthur  came  up 
to  London  and  plunged  into  journalism  and  desultory, 
and  rather  Bohemian,  literary  life;  Esther,  whose  pas- 
sion was  for  learning,  managed  to  get  a  scholarship 
at  a  woman's  college,  and  by  means  of  it  and  by  the 
expenditure  of  her  very  small  patrimony,  secured  four 
years  of  residence  at  Oxford.  She  was  almost  penni- 
less when  she  left  it,  but  she  had  secured  a  first-class 
in  History,  had  excellent  testimonials,  and  was  con- 
fident of  her  powers  of  earning  her  own  living.  But 
she  was  not  quite  sure  whether  she  could  earn  a  living 
for  Arthur  as  well  as  for  herself;  yet  it  sometimes 
seemed  to  her  as  if  he  half  expected  her  to  do  so. 

Well,  she  was  willing  to  do  what  she  could  for  him; 
a  woman  is  always  tender  to  the  man  whom  she  even 
fancies  that  she  has  loved;  and  Esther  was  no  excep- 


10  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

tion  to  the  rule.  Only  sometimes  she  thought  that 
Arthur  took  her  sisterly  affection  a  trifle  too  much 
for  granted.  And  when  he  began  to  talk  about  her 
"prosperity,"  she  shrank  a  little  as  if  she  knew  that 
she  was  about  to  be  hurt. 

"It  is  strange,"  he  said  presently  in  a  reflective  tone, 
"strange  to  think  how  seldom  prosperity  comes  to 
men  of  real  genius.  Perhaps  poverty  and  ill-success 
should  be  accepted  as  signs  of  merit,  after  all.  The 
greatest  men  have  lived  in  a  garret." 

"A  garret  isn't  a  bad  place  sometimes,"  said  Esther. 
"Are  you  working  very  hard  just  now,  Arthur?" 

"Of  course  I  work  hard,"  he  answered,  resenting 
the  question.  "But,  as  you  know,  the  work  that  the 
world  might  some  day  value  is  exactly  the  work  that 
doesn't  pay.  The  work  that  pays  is  the  miserable, 
degrading  routine  of  journalism " 

"I  think  it  may  be  very  fine  work,"  said  Esther,  with 
kindling  eyes. 

"What  do  you  know  of  it?  What  do  you  know  of 
modern  daily  life  at  all?"  he  said,  with  weary  scorn. 
"You  have  lived  like  a  Sybarite — immersed  in  luxury 
and  lapt  in  dreams — first  in  academic  Oxford" — he 
always  sneered  when  he  spoke  of  Oxford — "now,  in 
the  most  delightful  part  of  Surrey,  with  a  little  easy 
coaching  to  do  up  at  a  grand  house — oh,  yes,  my 
dear  Esther,  you  have  always  fallen  "on  your  feet." 

"Have  I,  indeed?"  said  his  cousin  indignantly.  "And 
do  you  remember  those  three  years  before  I  got  my 
scholarship? — how  I  drudged  as  a  nursery-governess, 
or  earned  a  few  shillings  a  week  by  addressing  en- 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  11 

velopes,  while  I  was  working  up  for  Oxford?  Do  you 
think  it  was  even  easy  for  me  at  College,  when  I 
couldn't  afford  to  be  properly  coached,  couldn't  dress 
like  other  girls,  couldn't  allow  myself  one  scrap  of 
rest  or  recreation?  Oh,  Arthur,  you  forget." 

"No,  I  do  not  forget.  But  I  remember  that  it  was 
all  done  to  carry  out  your  pet  project,  your  one  idea. 
It  is  always  so  with  you,  Esther;  you  set  your  heart 
upon  one  object,  and  I  believe  you  would  sacrifice 
your  dearest  friend  if  he  stood  in  the  way." 

"I  sacrificed  no  one  then,"  said  the  girl,  her  dark 
eyes  flashing  fire. 

He  moved  his  hand  negligently.  "Oh,  no,"  he  an- 
swered in  a  half-hearted  way.  "I  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you  did.  You  worked  well  for  yourself,  that  was 
all.  I  have  often  wished  I  had  your  chances;  the  few- 
hundreds  your  father  left  you  would  have  made  a 
tremendous  difference  to  me." 

"I  offered  to  divide  them  with  you,  Arthur,  and  you 
refused  to  take  anything." 

"Say  rather,"  said  the  young  man  coolly,  "that  you 
threw  me  over  and  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  take 
a  gift  from  you." 

It  sounded  well,  but  Esther  knit  her  brows  over  the 
remembrance  of  the  many  gifts  that  she  could  ill  afford 
which  he  had  taken  from  her  during  the  last  few 
years. 

"Oh,  Arthur,  don't  let  us  quarrel!"  she  said  thrust- 
ing back  the  ugly  thought.  "I  was  so  pleased  when 
I  saw  you  this  morning;  I  didn't  think  that  we  should 
begin  to  discuss  unpleasant  things  so  soon." 


12  THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"We  won't,  then/'  said  Arthur,  starting  to  his  feet, 
not  unmoved  by  the  tears  in  those  brilliant  eyes.  "I 
did  not  mean  to  be  disagreeable  either.  I  was  in  a 
bad  temper  when  I  started,  I  suppose ;  I  had  a  manu- 
script returned  this  morning.  That's  enough  to  sour 
any  man  for  the  day.  Isn't  it,  little  one?" 

He  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  as  he  spoke,  in 
a  caressing,  fraternal  way.  Esther  put  her  fingers 
over  it  and  held  it  silently  for  a  minute  or  two.  She 
had  to  get  rid  of  the  tears  on  her  cheek  before  she 
could  venture  to  open  her  mouth.  She  was  some- 
times very  meek  with  this  cousin  of  hers — this  man 
whom  she  had  ceased  to  love,  yet  blamed  herself  for 
not  loving. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  perfectly  nat- 
ural tone.  "What  manuscript  was  it,  Arthur?  The 
novel?" 

"No;  a  short  story;  I  counted  on  it.  I  thought  I 
was  safe  to  get  ten  pounds.  I'm  stone  broke  now. 
What  a  thing  it  is  to  be  poor!" 

"I  have  got  ten  that  I  can  spare/'  said  Esther 
eagerly.  "Take  it  and  pay  me  back  when  your  story 
is  accepted,  Arthur.  Really,  I  don't  want  it." 

"No,  no;  I  won't  do  that.  I  shall  get  the  money 
some  other  way.  Never  mind  about  me.  You've  told 
me  no  news  of  yourself  yet,  Esther.  I  scarcely  saw 
you  when  you  passed  through  London." 

"I  had  no  time,"  said  Esther,  quite'restored  to  bright- 
ness by  this  time  and  smiling  upon  him  gayly;  "and 
I  wrote  you  a  long  letter,  but  I  daresay  you  never  read 
it.  Sit  down  again  comfortably  and  light  another  cigar- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

ette.  We  shall  be  having  tea  directly  and  then  we 
can  go  for  a  stroll." 

He  did  not  move  away  from  her  side  at  once,  al- 
though he  disengaged  his  hand  from  hers  and  began 
turning  over  the  papers  on  the  table  with  all  the  free- 
dom of  a  brother. 

"What  are  these?"  he  said.    "Exercises?" 

"Papers  for  me  to  correct.  My  pupil's  papers,  you 
know." 

"This  isn't  a  child's  writing,  is  it?" 

"My  pupil  is  not  a  child.  Miss  Daubeny  is  twenty- 
one." 

"What  does  she  want  a  governess  for,  then?" 

"Oh,  Arthur,  don't  be  so  hopelessly  retrograde. 
She  did  not  want  a  governess.  I  am  not  a  governess. 
I  am  a  coach.  I  have  coached  her  since  Easter." 

"I  know  you  are  an  awful  swell  at  history;  but 
do  you  know  anything  else?"  said  Arthur  in  a  rally- 
ing tone. 

"I  hope  I  do.  But  she  has  a  special  fancy  for  his- 
tory, as  it  happens,  and  she  means  to  take  it  up  when 
she  goes  to  College.  She  has  persuaded  her  uncle 
and  aunt  to  let  her  go  to  Oxford." 

"Ye  gods!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Ellison.  "Will  wonders 
never  end?  A  wealthy  well-born  young  woman  (she  is 
that,  isn't  she?)  with  no  need  to  earn  a  living  for 
herself  as  teacher  or  journalist,  to  throw  over  a  pleas- 
ant, easy-going  country  life  in  favor  of  a  woman's 
college.  It  must  be  your  doing,  Esther!" 

"So  Lady  Charlotte  says,"  remarked  Esther  rather 
dismally.  "But  I  have  done  nothing.  I  talked  of 


14  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

my  own  experiences,  that  was  all.     But  they  seem 
to  have  fascinated  Lisa." 

"Lisa?    Is  her  name  Lisa?" 

"Yes;   do  you  like  the  name?" 

"It  isn't  a  happy  name,"  said  Arthur  in  a  lazy,  fan- 
tastic way  that  was  peculiar  to  him  at  times.  "You 
remember  that  heart-rending  book  of  Tourgenieff's? 
'Lisa'  it  is  called  in  the  French  translation.  Ever 
since  then,  any  woman  called  Lisa  is  bound  to  be 
miserable." 

"Oh,  don't  say  so;  it  sounds  like  an  evil  omen." 
•     "Omens  hang  around  the  name.     Your  friend  is 
doomed  to  an  evil  fate  and  a  melancholy  end." 

"Arthur,  don't!  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  your 
prognostications  are  not  pleasant." 

Arthur  laughed  and  turned  over  the  papers  again. 
"If  you  are  not  superstitious,  my  dear,  you  are  won- 
derfully sensitive.  What's  this  flaming  circular  thing, 
with  Lady  Charlotte  Byng's  name  on  it  in  big  red 
letters?  Oh,  I  see,  a  flower  show  'will  be  opened  at 
three  o'clock  precisely  by  the  Lady  Charlotte  Byng.' 
And  who's  the  Lady  Charlotte  Byng?  I  seem  to  know 
her  name." 

"Of  course  you  do.  The  Byngs  are  the  people  who 
have  Westhills,  the  house  that  I  visit  every  morning. 
Miss  Daubeny  is  their  niece.  And  Lady  Charlotte 
is  a  very  well-known  woman;  she  was  the  daughter 
of  the  Marchioness  of  Muncaster." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  said  Arthur,  recalling  with  in- 
terest a  name  which  had  once  had  a  European  fame 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  15 

and  influence;  the  name  of  a  woman  as  beautiful  as 
she  was  witty,  who  had  possessed  the  confidence  of 
a  monarch,  the  friendship  of  the  greatest  men  and 
women  of  her  day.  She  was  dead  now,  but  her  mem- 
ory survived,  and  Lady  Charlotte,  her  only  surviving 
daughter,  had  inherited  a  fair  share  of  her  mother's 
talent,  and  also  the  prestige  of  her  mother's  name. 
To  be  one  of  Lady  Muncaster's  daughters  had  always 
proved  an  introduction  in  itself  to  the  greatest  of 
great  worlds. 

"Which  side  is  Miss  Daubeny  on?''  he  asked  with 
some  curiosity.  "If  she  is  Mr.  Byng's  niece  I  shall 
not  be  surprised  that  she  should  be  allowed  to  make 
a  Xew  Woman  of  herself.  I  can't  fancy  Lady  Mun- 
caster's granddaughter  being  allowed  to  go  to  col- 
lege." 

"You  completely  mistake  the  position  of  women 
at  our  colleges,  Arthur,"  said  his  cousin  with  severity. 
"There  are  members  of  the  highest  classes " 

"Yes,  yes;  I  know  all  that!  At  the  same  time  I 
stick  to  it — Lady  Muncaster's  granddaughter  wouldn't 
have  gone  to  college.  She  would  have  been  a  beauty 
for  one  thing,  and  beauties  don't  give  their  mind  to 
books." 

"Lisa  Daubeny  is  very  beautiful,"  said  Esther. 
"And  unfortunately  for  your  theories,  she  is  Lady 
Charlotte's  own  niece." 

"I'm  more  interested  in  the  aunt.  What  is  she 
like?  Handsome,  I  suppose,  like  all  the  Blundell  fam- 
ily," said  Arthur,  surrendering  the  question  of  Miss 
Daubeny's  position. 


16  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"She  has  been  splendidly  handsome.  She  is  good- 
looking  now,  but  of  course  she  must  be  nearly  fifty." 

"Has  she  no  children?" 

"None.    Lisa  lives  with  them  and " 

"She'll  be  the  heiress,  I  suppose.  I  remember  hear- 
ing that  Byng  was  a  wealthy  man." 

"Yes."  Esther  hesitated  a  little.  "They  will  give 
her  a  dowry.  But  there  is  a  cousin  in  whose  career 
they  are  very  much  interested.  I  have  a  fancy  that 
Westhills  will  go  to  him." 

"By  Jove!"  said  Arthur  enviously.  "What  luck 
some  men  have!" 

Then  after  a  pause: 

"Who  is  this  cousin?" 

"A  Mr.  Thorold— Justin  Thorold,  member  for  Plow- 
borough." 

"Married?" 

"No,"  said  Esther  with  some  reluctance.  There  was 
a  deeper  crimson  on  her  cheeks  than  usual,  and  a  low- 
ering of  her  eyelids  that  might  have  excited  her  cou- 
sin's interest  had  his  thoughts  not  been  centered  else- 
where. 

"Then,  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "they  mean  to  marry 
Miss  Daubeny  to  Thorold.  It's  a  very  evident  arrange- 
ment. The  college  scheme  will  fall  through,  Esther. 
Make  the  most  of  your  time." 

Esther  rose  abruptly  and  began  to  gather  her  papers 
together  and  file  them  upon  the  side  table.  Thus  en- 
gaged she  turned  her  back  upon  Arthur,  and  he 
couldn't  see  the  expression  of  her  face.  The  maid- 
servant brought  in  the  tea,  and  conversation  was  in- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  17 

terrupted  for  a  time.  But  as  Arthur  drank  his  third 
cup — he  was  an  inveterate  tea-drinker — he  recurred 
to  the  subject  of  the  family  at  Westhills. 

"Lady  Charlotte's  by  way  of  being  a  literary  woman, 
isn't  she?" 

"She  writes  books,  yes.  She  loves  literary  people 
and  artistic  people — clever  people  of  all  kinds.  She 
cares  for  so  many  things  that  I  never  know  which 
she  likes  best.  She  paints,  carves,  writes;  she  has 
traveled  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  speaks  every 
language  under  the  sun;  she  is  an  admirable  land- 
scape gardener  and  a  very  successful  farmer." 

"Spare  my  feelings!"  ejaculated  Arthur.  "What 
else?'' 

"Oh,  everything  else.  I  can't  enumerate  all  her 
capabilities.  She  is  a  most  remarkable  woman.  She 
can  ride  and  row,  and  I  hear  she  is  a  first-rate  shot." 

"I  should  think  she  has  not  much  time  for  family 
affection,"  said  the  young  man  slowly. 

"I  have  never  heard  her  blamed  for  want  of  it.'' 

"What  a  Jesuitical  answer!  I  say,  Esther,  don't  you 
think  your  incomparable  Lady  Charlotte  might  give 
me  a  helping  hand?" 

Esther  looked  up  at  him  quickly,  a  momentary  sus- 
picion in  her  dark  eyes.  But  Arthur  met  her  glance 
so  frankly  that  she  was  disarmed. 

"She  must  know  lots  of  people.  Somebody  might 
want  a  secretary.  I  should  like  a  secretaryship  much 
better  than  a  berth  on  an  evening  paper,  which  is  all 
I  have  in  prospect  at  present." 


18  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"Have  you  that  in  prospect?  Something  perma- 
nent? I  am  very  glad." 

The  young  man  flushed  with  vexation. 

"You  used  to  be  more  sympathetic,"  he  said  peev- 
ishly. "What  is  the  use  of  me  wasting  my  time  as 
a  sub  on  a  half-penny  paper  when  I  might  be  making 
my  way  in  the  world  elsewhere.  As  a  private  secre- 
tary I  might  see  something  of  society;  I  might  make 
friends  who  would  be  useful  to  me.  You  never  use 
your  opportunities  in  that  way." 

"I'll  mention  your  name  to  Lady  Charlotte  if  you 
like,  Arthur." 

"It  would  be  better  if  I  could  make  her  acquaint- 
ance myself,''  said  Arthur  ungratefully. 

There  was  a  little  silence,  and  then  he  said  with  a 
laugh: 

"I've  hit  it.  You  shall  introduce  me  to  your  Lady 
Charlotte." 

"I  would  if  I  could;  but  I  don't  see  how." 

"But  I  see  perfectly  well.  I'll  run  up  to  London  for 
my  traps  and  stay  here  with  you  for  a  few  weeks.  I 
daresay  there's  a  room  to  let  in  the  house,  isn't  there?" 

"Yes;  but,  Arthur — I  don't  want  to  seem  absurd 
and  conventional — but — the  Byngs  are  very  correct 
and  particular;  and  I  don't  think  they  would  think 
it  a  right  thing  for  you  to  be  here  with  me.  I  am 
quite  sure  they  wouldn't  let  Lisa,  Miss  Daubeny,  come 
to  tea  with  me  without  a  chaperon  if  you  were  on  the 
premises." 

"Ridiculous!"  said  Arthur;  but  he  paused  and  con- 
sidered the  matter.  "Oh,  well,  there's  one  way  out 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  19 

of  the  difficulty — as  regards  yourself,  I  mean.     You 
have  only  to  say  that  I  am  your  brother,  and  nobody 
will  rrake  the  slightest  objection." 
Esther  laughed  at  the  idea. 


20  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MISS   ELLISON'S   BROTHER. 

"May  I  ask  what  you  are  doing  in  my  garden,  sir?" 
said  Lady  Charlotte,  in  tones  expressive  of  deep  wrath 
and  deeper  disdain. 

She  looked  like  a  Juno,  Arthur  thought,  as  he  rose 
from  his  seat  on  a  low  stone  parapet,  and  bowed  to 
the  stately  figure  before  him.  At  a  glance  he  recog- 
nized the  truth  of  Esther's  description,  but  he  amended 
it.  Not  only  had  Lady  Charlotte  been  "splendidly 
handsome,"  but  she  was  splendidly  handsome  now. 
After  all,  she  was  not  yet  fifty;  and  although  she  looked 
her  age,  he  could  not  call  her  old. 

She  was  a  tall  woman,  with  a  fine  figure,  loosely 
clad  in  a  flowing  dark  gown — he  was  not  sure  at  first 
whether  it  was  purple  or  black,  but  he  vaguely  sur- 
mised it  to  be  the  royal  color — which  seemed  to  fall 
of  itself  into  folds  of  antique  grace  and  beauty.  It 
occurred  afterwards  to  Arthur's  somewhat  sophisti- 
cated mind  that  the  folds  were  due  to  the  art  of  a  first- 
rate  dressmaker,  and  not  attributable  to  Lady  Char- 
lotte; but  at  the  moment  he  could  not  help  admiring 
their  perfect  lines,  as  if  they  were  part  of  the  wearer's 
individuality  instead  of  a  modiste's  triumph.  There 
was  a  fine  old  silver  clasp  at  her  waist  and  an  antique 
coin,  set  as  a  brooch,  at  her  throat;  her  rather  large 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  21 

but  beautifully  moulded  hands  were  adorned  with  three 
curious  and  ancient  rings ;  but  she  wore  no  other  orna- 
ments. Lady  Charlotte  abhorred  modern  jewelry. 

Her  thick,  dark  hair,  with  the  wide  wave  in  it  which 
suggested  the  classic  heads  of  antiquity,  was  parted 
in  the  middle,  brought  down  loosely  on  each  side, 
almost  over  the  ears,  and  coiled  in  a  big  loose  knot  on 
the  nape  of  her  neck.  It  was  not  just  then  a  fashion- 
able way  of  dressing  the  hair,  but  it  suited  the  style  of 
Lady  Charlotte's  fine  head  and  face.  Her  complexion 
was  pale,  the  skin  slightly  olive  in  tone.  The  fore- 
head was  low  and  broad,  the  beautifully-cut  mouth 
rather  too  large,  the  high  nose  and  square  chin  well- 
shaped  but  too  salient.  It  was  the  look  of  the  eyes — 
dark,  passionate  eyes,  full  of  life  and  vigor — with  the 
beautiful  stormy  brows  above  them,  that  excited  Ar- 
thur's most  ardent  admiration.  "One  could  under- 
stand the  writing  of  a  sonnet  to  one's  mistress's  eye- 
brows, with  eyebrows  like  these,"  he  murmured  to 
himself.  And  later  he  found  out  that  he  was  not  the 
only  admirer.  A  good  many  rhapsodies  had  been 
penned,  at  one  time  or  another,  on  the  subject  of  Lady 
Charlotte's  beautiful  brows.  They  had  a  superb  arch, 
a  delicate  darkness,  an  expressiveness,  unequaled  in 
the  annals  of  contemporary  beauty.  They  almost  de- 
served a  place  in  history. 

Her  appearance,  taken  altogether,  was  imposing, 
and  her  voice  added  to  its  awe-inspiring  effect.  It  was 
a  very  deep,  mellow  contralto,  not  loud,  but  capable,  as 
one  could  imagine,  of  a  tremendous  volume  of  sound. 
If  she  had  taken  to  singing,  it  had  been  said,  she 


22  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

would  have  taken  the  world  by  storm.  But  she  was 
not  musical.  As  she  would  frankly  tell  you,  she  could 
not  sing  a  note. 

But  she  could,  on  occasion,  thunder  forth  her  wrath 
or  indignation  with  perfectly  appalling  force.  The 
magnificent  tones,  the  lightning  fire  of  her  eyes,  the 
darkness  of  her  stormy  brows,  were  all  concentrated 
for  the  moment  upon  Arthur  Ellison,  whom  she  had 
discovered  sitting  on  the  parapet  of  a  grassy  terrace 
overlooking  a  flower  garden  of  which  she  was  par- 
ticularly fond.  Lady  Charlotte  hated  intruders,  and 
this  garden  was  her  own  especial  private  property, 
planned  by  herself,  in  which  she  grew  her  favorite 
flowers  and  tried  experiments  with  imported  plants. 
From  the  terrace,  or  grassy  plateau  above  it,  a  splen- 
did view  of  the  surrounding  country  could  be  obtained, 
and  thence  a  flight  of  steps  led  to  the  garden,  which 
was  situated  at  a  stone's  throw  from  the  house  and 
was  inclosed  by  stone  walls  covered  with  climbing 
plants.  The  garden  and  the  terrace  were,  in  fact, 
copied  from  an  old  Italian  model,  and  Lady  Char- 
lotte was  justly  proud  of  them.  But  that  a  stranger 
should  have  penetrated  to  her  pet  spot  and  should, 
without  permission,  be  making  a  sketch  of  Westhills, 
was  an  outrage  not  often  perpetrated. 

Arthur  rose  quickly,  and  took  off  his  hat,  bowing 
with  an  easy  grace  which,  even  in  that  moment  of 
wrath,  Lady  Charlotte  was  quick  to  appreciate. 

"I  offer  my  most  humble  apologies,"  he  said.  "I 
will  go  at  once.  My  sister  left  me  in  the  avenue  to 
await  her  return  from  the  house,  and  I  must  confess 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  23 

that  I  caught  sight  of  the  terrace  and  was  tempted 
to  turn  aside.  My  intrusion  was  quite  unpardonable — 
but  easy  to  understand."  He  threw  a  regretful  glance 
around  him  as  though  the  beauty  of  the  spot  were 
hard  indeed  to  leave. 

"Your  sister?  Who  is  your  sister?"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte abruptly.  "And  why  didn't  you  come  up  to  the 
house  with  her?" 

"My  sister,  madam,"  said  Arthur  deferentially — his 
instinct  told  him  that  she  would  approve  of  almost  any 
amount  of  deference — "my  sister  is  Esther  Ellison, 
who  is,  I  believe,  reading  with  Miss  Daubeny!'' 

A  change  came  over  the  dark  face — such  a  change 
as  is  seen  when  a  thunder-cloud  breaks  to  let  the  sun- 
shine through. 

"What,  are  you  Miss  Ellison's  brother?  Why  didn't 
she  introduce  you?  I  am  pleased  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance, Mr.  Ellison,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  passing 
at  once  from  brusque  severity  to  the  dignified  cour- 
tesy of  a  grande  dame  de  par  le  monde.  "You  must 
excuse  my  surprise" — one  might  have  used  a  harsher 
term,  thought  Arthur,  suppressing  some  amusement — 
"but  I  have  been  so  pestered  with  tourists  and  prying 
cockneys  who  wanted  to  make  the  park  into  a  picnic 
ground,  that  I  have  grown  suspicious  of  strangers. 
But  any  relative  of  Miss  Ellison's  is  welcome.  We 
are  all  very  fond  of  Miss  Ellison  down  here." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Arthur.  "But  I  must 
apologize  again  for  intruding." 

"Not  at  all.  You  were  waiting  for  your  sister  in  the 
avenue?  Ah,  yes,  I  know  one  gets  a  tempting  peep 


24  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

of  the  terrace  down  that  side-path.  I  hardly  wonder 
you  were  allured.  You  see,"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
yielding  promptly  to  the  opening  for  pointing  out  the 
beauties  of  the  place,  "there  is  no  spot  more  favorable 
than  this  for  a  view  of  the  district.  Look  beyond  the 
garden — you  get  the  whole  sweep  of  the  country, 
heath,  common,  river,  wood,  and  blue  hills  beyond 
that.  It  was  a  bit  of  waste  ground  when  I  came  here 
first.  I  turned  it  into  a  terrace,  and  laid  out  the  gar- 
den on  the  slope  below.  If  you  have  ever  been  in 
Italy,  you  will  observe  that  I  have  tried  to  copy  the 
plan  of  an  old  Italian  garden — only  the  cypresses  and 
lemon-trees  have  poor  substitutes  in  my  yews  and 
fuchsia  plants.  There's  a  real  pergola  on  each  side 
of  the  garden,  however,  covered  with  vines.  I  don't 
see  why  vines  should  not  flourish  in  Surrey  now  as 
they  used  to  do." 

Arthur's  journalistic  training  came  to  his  aid.  A 
thorough  townsman,  he  had  little  practical  knowledge 
of  gardening  or  fruit-growing,  but  he  suddenly  re- 
membered a  few  facts  relating  to  the  bunches  of  grapes 
grown  in  the  garden  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
in  olden  time.  He  had  no  hesitation  in  boldly  offering 
the  information  at  his  command. 

"That's  very  interesting,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  fix- 
ing her  dark  eyes  upon  him  with  an  air  of  utter  ab- 
sorption of  soul  in  what  he  was  saying.  "I  had  the 
Archbishop  himself  here  the  other  day ;  I  don't  believe 
he  knew  of  his  predecessor's  achievement.  I'll  ask  him 
if  he  grows  grapes  at  Addington.'' 

"They  could  not  be  sour,  at  any  rate/'  said  Arthur. 
"Those  would  be  left  for  the  inferior  clergy." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  25 

Lady  Charlotte  laughed  and  eyed  him  narrowly. 
"You  mustn't  say  that  to  the  Archbishop,  you  know," 
she  said. 

"I  won't,  if  I  ever  meet  him." 

"I  am  sure  he  would  be  delighted  to  know  you,  if 
you  are  so  well  up  in  the  details  of  the  Middle  Ages," 
said  Lady  Charlotte.  "You  are  like  your  sister,  per- 
haps; she  has  a  passion  for  the  Middle  Ages." 

"I  prefer  my  own/'  said  Arthur. 

"Ah,  well,  I  like  the  last  century.  It's  particularly 
interesting  to  me — perhaps  because  my  forefathers 
were  mixed  up  in  the  history  of  it  a  good  deal.  We 
are  connected  with  the  Stanhopes,  you  will  remember. 
I've  often  wished  I  had  been  born  a  Stanhope  instead 
of  a  Daubeny.  Pitt's  my  hero,  and  next  to  him 
Napoleon.  We  have  a  great  many  original  letters  and 
documents  up  at  the  house,  relating  to  people  of 
that  time — the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  be- 
ginning of  the  nineteenth.  Your  sister  has  been  a 
good  deal  interested  in  them ;  perhaps  you  would  like 
to  look  over  the  collection  some  day?" 

Arthur  dropped  his  eyelids  a  little,  so  that  she  should 
not  see  the  flash  of  pleasure  in  his  eyes.  He  had  got 
what  he  wanted — an  invitation  to  Westhills. 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Lady  Charlotte,  I  think?"  he 
said,  hesitating  a  little  before  the  name. 

"Lord,  what  a  fool  I  am!"  said  Lady  Charlotte.  "Of 
course  you  do  not  know  me.  I  am  Lady  Charlotte 
Byng,  if  we  are  to  introduce  ourselves;  and  you 
are—?" 

"Arthur  Ellison,  at  your  service." 


26  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Arthur  Ellison?  A  pretty  name,  Arthur;  but 
you're  not  much  like  your  sister  in  appearance,  are 
you,  Mr.  Ellison?  I  should  never  have  imagined  you 
to  be  the  gypsy's  brother.  We  call  her  the  gypsy 
among  ourselves.  She's  curiously  like  the  Romany 
type." 

"We  are  of  different  mothers,"  said  Arthur,  hoping 
that  Esther  would  bear  him  out  in  his  statement.  It 
wasn't  all  a  lie,  he  reflected.  Different  mothers,  cer- 
tainly; as  to  fathers,  that  was  another  matter. 

"Ah,  so  I  should  have  thought.     Are  you  an  artist?" 

"No,  indeed.  I  sketch  only  for  my  own  amusement. 
I  am  that  miserable  object,  a  literary  hack." 

"Literature  is  a  fine  profession,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte seriously.  "I  am  not  sure  that  it  isn't  the  finest 
profession  in  the  world,  although  my  family  have  gone 
in  rather  for  statesmanship.  And  you  draw  for  your 
own  pleasure?  I  have  sketched  a  good  deal  myself, 
especially  when  I  was  in  the  East.  Will  you  allow  me 
to  see  your  sketch?" 

The  fascination  of  her  manner,  when  it  dropped  sud- 
denly from  sharpness  or  brusquerie  into  consideration 
and  courtesy,  was  irresistible.  Even  Arthur  Ellison, 
who,  like  most  young  men  of  the  day,  thought  no 
woman  worth  looking  at  after  she  was  five  and  twenty, 
was  positively  startled  by  her  beauty  and  her  charm. 
He  was  almost  ashamed  of  the  poor  little  sketch  which 
he  was  obliged  to  submit  to  her  criticism;  and  he  was 
not  easily  ashamed  of  his  own  productions. 

Lady  Charlotte  looked  at  it  keenly,  looked  up  at  the 
house  which  it  represented,  and  nodded. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  27 

"You  don't  mind  my  saying  it  is  amateurish,  do 
you?"  she  inquired.  "The  fact  is  you  have  chosen  a 
peculiarly  difficult  point  of  view,  as  beginners  often  do. 
I  pointed  it  out  to  the  President  once  when  he  was 
down  here,  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  it 
was  too  difficult  for  him.  So  you  see!" 

"It  is  worth  nothing — a  scribble,"  said  Arthur,  some- 
what abashed.  "Do  let  me  tear  it  up." 

"No,  no,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  in  an  encouraging 
tone.  "It  isn't  so  very  bad.  Here,  give  me  your  pen- 
cil a  minute;  I  won't  spoil  it!"  And  to  the  young 
man's  amaze,  she  seated  herself  calmly  on  the  low 
stone  wall,  and  began  to  add  emphatic  touches  to  his 
sketch.  "Here  you  want  a  dark  line — here  the  per- 
spective is  a  little  odd;  that  tree  doesn't  come  so  far 
forward — you  have  missed  the  architectural  effect" — 
and  so  on  for  a  few  minutes ;  until  she  handed  him  back 
the  sketch-book  with  the  result  that  his  feeble  little 
sketch  had  by  a  few  masterly  strokes  been  transformed 
into  a  charming  little  drawing  of  the  picturesque  old 
house  of  Westhills,  as  seen  from  the  terrace  wall. 

Arthur  took  it  and  thanked  the  lady  profusely,  but 
his  countenance,  in  spite  of  himself,  betrayed  so  much 
mortification  that  Lady  Charlotte  felt  bound  to  be 
doubly  kind  to  him.  "And  now  that  I've  spoiled  your 
sketch,  for  which  you  will  hate  me,"  she  said  good- 
humoredly,  "you  may  as  well  come  up  to  the  house  and 
have  a  cup  of  tea.  I  know  my  niece  wanted  to  detain 
your  sister  this  afternoon,  and  so  we  can  set  her  mind 
at  ease." 

They  walked  on  together,  Lady  Charlotte's  violet 


28  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

gown  rustling  in  the  breeze.  "You  must  have  studied 
art  closely/'  said  Arthur  at  last,  having  nothing  else 
to  say. 

"No.  I  only  took  a  few  lessons  once  from  Julian  in 
Paris,"  said  Lady  Charlotte  carelessly.  "But,  I've 
heard  about  art  all  my  life,  you  see.  My  mother  was 
fond  of  artists,  and  they  came  about  the  house  a  good 
deal.  I  know  by  this  time  what  a  good  point  of  view 
is  and  what  is  not.  Sir  Frederick  said  that  the  point 
you  chose  was  impossible.  But,  I'll  show  you  what 
he  did  for  me  instead.  I  think  you'll  admit  I  gained 
by  the  change  of  subject." 

Arthur  fell  to  musing  on  Lady  Charlotte's  famili- 
arity with  the  great  men  of  the  day,  and  was  recalled 
to  himself  only  by  her  next  question,  which  struck  him 
with  dismay.  "Did  the  old  chronicler  of  whom  you 
spoke  mention  any  particular  dressing  for  the  soil  in 
which  the  vines  were  grown?" 

Arthur  did  not  know,  but  his  ignorance  did  not  put 
an  end  to  the  topic,  for  Lady  Charlotte  descanted  on  the 
virtues  of  liquid  manures  all  the  way  up  the  drive  and 
to  the  very  door.  Her  listener  was  conscious  of  a 
mental  stupefaction,  from  which  he  did  not  recover 
until  he  stood  within  the  fine  old  entrance  hall  of  the 
house,  and  began  to  observe  the  suits  of  inlaid  armor 
on  the  walls,  the  statues  peeping  out  from  bowers  of 
palms,  the  oaken  beams  of  the  roof,  the  painted  escut- 
cheons in  the  windows,  and  the  wild  beast  skins 
upon  the  tesselated  floor.  Very  little  of  the  house  was 
really  old:  one  tower  and  a  few  rooms  opening  on  the 
court-yard  were  of  undoubted  antiquity;  but  the  rest 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  29 

of  the  really  magnificent  building  had  been  erected  by 
Mr.  Byng's  wealth  from  Lady  Charlotte's  own  designs. 
Arthur  had  no  futile  yearnings  after  antiquity,  and  said 
to  himself  that  he  infinitely  preferred  a  new  and  com- 
fortable mansion,  with  all  the  recent  improvements,  to 
a  half-ruined  keep  or  a  castle  in  imperfect  repair. 

"We  have  tea  in  the  hall  generally,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte, touching  an  electric  bell  with  one  hand  and  in- 
dicating a  chair  to  her  visitor  with  the  other  "Sit 
down,  Mr.  Ellison — tea,  Andrews — I  want  to  show 
you  the  President's  sketch — and,  Andrews,  ask  Miss 
Daubeny  and  Miss  Ellison  to  come  down  as  soon  as 
they  are  ready.  There's  the  sketch;  I  daresay  you 
will  see  it  reproduced  in  the  Academy  next  year." 

Lady  Charlotte  held  out  a  drawing  in  crayons — 
roughly  done,  perhaps,  but  with  the  roughness  of  a 
master's  hand.  It  was  a  lovely  head  in  profile,  the  lips 
slightly  parted,  the  eyes  raised  and  there  was  a  spiritu- 
alized expression  upon  the  features  which  seemed  to 
Arthur  Ellison  to  be  too  beautiful  to  be  perfectly  nat- 
ural or  true.  Underneath  it  was  scored  the  name — 
"Lisa,"  and  the  great  artist's  initials  and  a  date  were 
added  in  the  corner. 

"How  beautiful!" 

"Yes.  Everyone  says  so.  I  think  it  is  flattered, 
perhaps,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  in  a  tone  of  secret  com- 
placency, "but  I  am  not  the  best  judge,  as  I  know  my 
niece's  face  so  well." 

"And  are  very  fond  of  her,"  Arthur  supplemented 
silently.  He  thought  Esther  had  thrown  doubt  on  the 
strength  of  Lady  Charlotte's  affection.  In  his  own 


30  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

mind,  he  called  Esther  a  little  idiot.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  Lady  Charlotte  was  devoted  to  her  niece.  But 
she  could  not  be  as  beautiful  as  her  picture  represented 
her! 

He  was  still  looking,  doubting  and  wondering,  when 
the  door  opened  and  Miss  Daubeny  herself  appeared. 
"Did  you  want  us,  Aunt  Charlotte?"  she  asked;  and 
Arthur  knew  that  the  original  of  the  picture  stood  be- 
fore him. 

There  had  been  no  exaggeration,  no  mistake.  The 
Lisa  of  reality  was  quite  as  beautiful  as  the  Lisa  of  the 
picture;  and  if  she  had  not  the  sublimated  unearthli- 
ness  of  expression,  she  had  an  exquisite  coloring  which 
the  drawing  did  not  show.  She  was  very  fair,  daz- 
zlingly  fair,  with  a  very  little  of  the  sea-shell  pink  that 
Arthur  especially  admired,  in  her  oval  face;  she  had 
hair  that  could  only  be  described  as  "bright,"  hair  that 
gleamed  as  it  rippled  back  from  her  white  forehead  to 
the  soft  thick  twists  at  the  back,  but  was  absolutely 
smooth,  without  a  hint  of  fringe  or  curl  or  fuzziness  in 
its  golden  waves.  Her  eyes  were  of  the  rarest  shade 
of  dark  blue-gray,  almost  violet  in  shadow;  and  the 
delicate  features  were  cameo-like  in  their  pale  perfec- 
tion, in  the  creamy  whiteness  of  the  beautiful  skin. 

Arthur  Ellison  was  keenly  alive  to  every  detail  of  her 
appearance;  he  had  never  been  so  much  struck  with  a 
girl  in  his  life;  and  he  was  delighted  to  notice  that  her 
dress  was  as  perfect  and  complete  as  herself.  It  was 
plain,  but  indescribably  fresh  and  dainty;  there  was  a 
look  of  elegance  about  her  aspect  which  gave  him  in- 
tense satisfaction.  He  himself  was  poor,  and  had  al- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  81 

ways  been  poor,  but  no  one  had  a  stronger  sense  than 
he  of  the  advantages  given  by  riches.  It  flashed 
through  his  mind  at  that  moment  that  he  should  not 
care  to  have  a  wife  unless  she  could  always  look  as 
beautiful  and  be  as  beautifully  dressed  as  Lisa 
Daubeny. 

Lady  Charlotte  introduced  the  visitor  in  her  off-hand 
way.  "I've  brought  Miss  Ellison's  brother  in  to  tea, 
Lisa — Mr.  Ellison,  my  niece,  Miss  Daubeny;  if  you 
fetch  Miss  Ellison  down,  she  need  not  hurry  away." 

A  look  of  swift  astonishment  passed  over  Lisa 
Daubeny's  sweet  face.  Arthur  felt  an  equally  swift 
thrill  of  agonizing  terror  lest  she  should  not  believe  in 
the  averred  relationship.  Had  Esther  told  her  already 
that  he  was  her  cousin? 

Evidently  something  of  the  kind  had  been  said. 
Lisa  bowed  and  looked  perplexed.  "But — Miss  Elli- 
son has  left  some  one  else  in  the  avenue,"  she  said. 
"Her  cousin,  I  believe — " 

"Oh,  my  cousin  has  gone  back  to  London,"  said 
Arthur,  with  perfect  gravity  and  sang-froid.  "He  was 
called  away  suddenly  on  business.  The  telegram 
reached  him  after  my  sister  left  the  house  this  after- 
noon." 

Lisa  appeared  perfectly  satisfied.  But  what  would 
Esther  say?  How  would  she  take  it?  It  occurred  to 
Arthur  now  that  he  had  been  playing  a  frightfully  dan- 
gerous game.  In  two  minutes,  if  Esther  did  not  bear 
him  out,  he  would  probably  be  dismissed  from  the 
house  as  an  impostor,  or  as  a  maniac,  who  had  told  a 


32  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

ridiculous  lie  for  no  apparent  reason.  He  felt  himself 
growing  white  and  sick  with  sudden  apprehension. 

Miss  Daubeny  disappeared,  and  Lady  Charlotte,  in 
a  friendly  way,  began  to  ask  Arthur  about  his  work 
and  his  prospects — the  very  subject  on  which  he  had 
anticipated  entering  with  such  zest.  But  his  anxiety 
spoiled  the  lucky  chance.  He  did  not  even  know  what 
he  said  in  answer  to  Lady  Charlotte's  questions. 

The  door  opened  and  Esther  came  in,  followed  by 
Lisa.  Arthur  cast  an  appealing  glance  at  his  cousin; 
he  saw  that  her  color  had  faded  and  her  eyes  were  dull, 
also  that  her  face  wore  a  shocked  and  startled  look. 
But  Lisa's  face  was  gentle  and  smiling  as  ever:  it  was 
plain,  at  any  rate,  that  Esther  had  not  betrayed  him  yet. 
Arthur's  spirits  rose  to  the  occasion:  he  felt  a  mo- 
mentary thrill  of  boyish  glee. 

"I've  brought  your  brother  in  with  me,  Miss  Elli- 
son," said  Lady  Charlotte  loudly.  "I  found  him  on  my 
terrace,  sketching  the  house,  and  I  nearly  slew  him  on 
the  spot;  but  when  he  claimed  to  be  your  brother,  I 
forgave  him  and  brought  him  in  to  tea.'' 

Esther  threw  a  pained  glance  at  her  cousin.  Evi- 
dently she  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"Your  cousin,  whom  you  told  me  about,  has  had  to 
go  back  to  London :  that  is  a  great  pity,"  said  Lisa  to 
her  friend. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Arthur,  smiling  gayly  into  Esther's 
face,  "he  had  a  telegram  from  London,  and  wanted  to 
go  off  immediately,  so  I  am  to  make  his  excuses  and 
say  that  he  hopes  to  see  you  in  London.  Fortunately, 
I  have  not  to  hurry  off  so  soon." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  33 

And  again  Esther  did  not  speak.  How  could  she 
betray  him?  She  who  had  thought  she  loved  him 
once.  But  she  was  furiously  angry.  What  reason 
had  Arthur  for  telling  this  foolish  lie,  which  might 
place  both  herself  and  him  in  such  an  awkward  situa- 
tion if  their  true  relationship  were  discovered? 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  with  your  sister, 
Mr.  Ellison?"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 

"I  have  not  much  to  do  in  town  just  now,"  said 
Arthur.  "I  thought  of  running  up  to  London  for 
some  luggage,  and  coming  back  for  two  or  three  weeks 
or  so.  Mrs.  Brown  has  another  room  to  let,  and  it 
will  be  pleasant  to  stay  with  my  sister  for  a  time.'' 

He  looked  Esther  in  the  face,  almost  defiantly,  this 
time.  She  could  never  betray  him  now! 

And  she  did  not.  But  her  drooping  mouth,  her 
frowning  brow,  expressed  none  of  the  pleasure  that  her 
friends  might  have  expected  her  to  feel. 

Lady  Charlotte  glanced  at  her.  "That  will  be  very 
nice,"  she  said,  helping  herself  to  cake,  and  leaving 
Andrews  to  supply  the  wants  of  her  visitors:  "very 
nice  for  you  at  any  rate,  and  I  daresay  your  sister  will 
be  pleased." 

But  Esther  still  kept  silent,  although  every  one  was 
looking  at  her  and  wondering  why  she  did  not  speak. 


34  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  III. 
MR.    THOROLD   OF   HURST. 

The  Ellisons  left  Westhills  about  six  o'clock,  and 
walked  back  to  the  farmhouse  where  Esther  was  lodg- 
ing and  where  Arthur  had  already  spent  one  night. 
Silence  lasted  until  they  were  well  out  of  view  of  the 
windows,  and  then  it  was  broken  by  Arthur,  who  put 
his  hand  quietly  within  his  cousin's  arm. 

"Come,  Esther,  don't  look  so  glum,"  he  said.  "I 
have  only  thrown  a  sop  to  the  Cerberus  of  convention- 
ality. What  difference  does  it  make  whether  I  am 
your  brother  or  your  cousin?'' 

"I  do  not  see  why  I  should  deceive  people  who  have 
been  kind  to  me." 

"How  have  they  been  kind?  What  obligation  have 
you  to  them?  Lady  Charlotte  pays  you  for  coaching 
her  niece,  that  is  all.  I  never  heard  that  one  was  under 
such  special  obligations  to  one's  employers." 

"Lady  Charlotte  has  been  very  kind  to  me  in  many 
ways,  and  I  am  very  fond  of  Lisa,"  said  Esther.  "It 
is  horrible  to  me  to  think  that  I  am  conniving  at  a 
lie—" 

"But  such  a  harmless  lie,"  said  Arthur,  coaxingly. 
"And  only  meant  to  deceive  Mrs.  Grundy  a  little. 
Why,  we  are  almost  brother  and  sister:  we  were 
brought  up  together — we  could  always  say  that  we 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  35 

meant  adopted  brother  and  sister,  if  ever  we  were 
brought  to  book." 

And,  seeing  Esther  shudder,  he  went  on  lightly: 
"Besides,  who  is  there  to  bring  us  to  book?  We  have 
no  relations  living  to  dispute  the  relationship:  we  have 
no  intimate  friends.  I  don't  know  how  far  you  con- 
fided in  your  college  friends  concerning  your  family — " 

"I  had  not  much  to  confide.  But  I  may  easily  have 
said  that  I  had  no  brothers — it  is  a  question  girls  al- 
ways ask  each  other." 

"Exactly;  and  I  have  provided  for  that  difficulty.  I 
told  Lady  Charlotte  that  I  was  your  half-brother. 
You  can  always  say  that  you  meant  you  had  no  brother 
of  your  own — that  you  scarcely  knew  your  half- 
brother,  and  so  on.  Come,  Esther,  be  sensible.  Let 
us  be  brother  and  sister  for  the  rest  of  our  lives:  it 
signifies  so  many  things.  You  could  keep  house  for 
me  in  London  as  my  sister,  you  know,  whereas  you  are 
too  young  to  do  it  as  my  cousin.  I  can't  see  why 
Providence  did  not  arrange  Tor  us  to  be  brother  and 
sister  in  reality:  it  would  have  been  much  more  con- 
venient." 

"It  would  be  more  convenient,  but  since  it  is  not 
so—" 

"We've  pretended  it  before  now,  you  will  remem- 
ber." 

Yes,  she  remembered.  It  was  when  she  was  seven- 
teen and  he  one  and  twenty:  light-hearted,  uncon- 
trolled, scorning  the  fetters  of  convention,  they  had 
gone  for  a  three  days'  walking  tour  in  Wales,  calling 
themselves  brother  and  sister  at  the  inns  which  they 


36  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

had  visited.  Esther  wondered  now  how  she  could 
have  done  it,  and  was  thankful  that  the  expedition  had 
remained  a  secret  to  most  of  her  friends.  There  had 
been  no  harm  in  it,  but  it  would  not  have  occurred  if 
she  had  had  a  mother  to  look  after  her.  To  her  father 
everything  she  chose  to  do  had  seemed  right. 

"I  was  a  child,  then/'  she  said. 

"Well,"  said  Arthur,  skillfully  changing  his  ground, 
"if  you  don't  like  the  plan,  dear,  we  won't  keep  it  up. 
I  only  did  it  to  make  matters  easier  for  you.  It  was  so 
much  better  to  say  I  was  your  brother  than  your  cou- 
sin. But  you'll  not  be  staying  here  forever,  and  when 
you  are  back  in  London,  we  can  resume  our  pristine 
relationship — since  you  are  so  anxious  to  keep  me  at  a 
distance!" 

"I  am  not  that,  indeed  I  am  not,  Arthur/'  said 
Esther  earnestly.  "I  want  to  be  as  like  a  sister  to  you 
as  I  can  possibly  be,  and  I  shall  always  do  everything 
I  can  to  help  you ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  we  have  en- 
tered on  a  silly  bit  of  deception  that  can  do  you  no 
good,  and  which  may  some  day  result  in  serious  harm 
to  both  of  us.  And  I  hate  deceptions — of  any  kind." 

"It  was  a  silly  trick,  perhaps,"  said  her  cousin.  "I 
don't  quite  know  what  prompted  me  to  say  what  I  did, 
unless  it  was  that  your  Lady  Charlotte,  with  her  big 
voice  and  her  grand  airs,  frightened  the  wits  out  of 
me.  I  sheltered  myself  under  your  wing,  instinctively. 
You  won't  round  on  me,  will  you,  Esther?  It's  only 
for  a  week  or  two,  you  know." 

"For  you,"  said  Esther,  in  rather  a  choked  voice, 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  37 

"but  for  me — I  hoped  that  they  would  be  my  life-long 
friends." 

"Why,  so  they  will.  I  shall  pass  out  of  their  life  like 
a  dream.  What  does  it  matter  to  them  whether  I  am 
your  brother  or  your  cousin?  They  will  see  no  more 
of  me,  probably,  when  I  have  left  the  respectable  Mrs. 
Brown's.  Make  your  mind  easy,  my  dear:  we  are  a 
little  bit  Bohemian,  you  and  I,  but  we  don't  go  about 
the  world  preying  on  rich  people  and  getting  money 
on  false  pretenses.  Our  little  frauds  are  quite  inno- 
cently meant." 

It  was  true — so  far,  at  least,  as  Esther  was  concerned. 
She  was  perfectly  straightforward  in  her  friendships, 
"hoping  for  nothing  again"  when  she  gave  her  love. 
She  could  not  scheme:  she  could  not  fawn;  and  the 
consequence  was  that  she  made  few  friends,  perhaps, 
but  the  friends  she  made  were,  like  herself,  staunch 
and  true. 

But  Arthur  was  not  exactly  like  herself.  She  knew 
that.  She  had  never  had  occasion  to  call  him  dishon- 
orable: he  would  never  have  spoken  to  her  again  if  she 
had  attempted  to  do  so;  but  she  was  struck  sometimes 
by  what  looked  like  a  certain  meanness  of  nature,  an 
incapacity  for  seeing  anything  from  a  higher  point  of 
view  than  his  own  self-interest.  It  seemed  to  him  so 
important  that  he  should  succeed;  that  he  should  be 
happy  and  prosperous.  The  world  must  be,  in  his 
eyes,  thoroughly  out  of  gear  when  it  did  not  afford  him 
all  he  required.  He  felt  injured  by  its  failure  to  do 
for  him  what  he  thought  it  promised:  he  had  the  feel- 
ing which  a  starving  man  might  be  supposed  to  have 


38  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

when  he  steals  a  loaf  out  of  a  baker's  shop — that  he  is 
justified  in  taking  what  the  world  ought  to  be  ready  to 
give  him  of  its  own  accord.  Arthur  Ellison  appeared 
to  think  that  he  might  be  forgiven  in  breaking  the  ordi- 
nary laws  of  God  and  man,  when  a  question  of  his  own 
welfare  was  involved. 

Esther  recognized  this  tendency  in  him  when  he  put 
aside  her  remonstrances  concerning  their  relationship. 
If  he  could  benefit,  if  even  he  could  get  pleasure,  out  of 
the  deception  (he  seemed  to  say)  why  should  he  not 
practice  it?  Abstract  right  and  wrong  were  nothing 
to  him:  he  always  acknowledged  that  he  thought  them 
relative.  The  thing  that  was  right  in  one  situation 
might  be  wrong  in  another:  the  moral  law  was  a  mat- 
ter of  geography  and  climate.  She  could  only  hope 
that  in  his  life  his  practice  would  transcend  his  own 
precepts. 

She  had  a  very  sisterly  kind  of  regard  for  him :  per- 
haps a  more  truly  sisterly  feeling  than  a  sister  by  blood 
might  have  had.  In  the  old  days,  when  they  had  spoken 
of  maniage,  they  had  often  wrangled  and  jarred;  their 
opinions  and  principles  were  different,  and  differences 
were  important  when  two  people  were  going  to  marry 
each  other.  They  agreed  much  better  now  that  they 
were  bound  only  by  ties  of  cousinship.  But  in  this 
matter  of  Arthur's  self-introduction  to  Lady  Charlotte 
as  Esther's  brother,  Esther  felt  herself  distinctly 
aggrieved;  and  Arthur  considered  that  she  attached 
an  undue  importance  to  the  incident. 

But  he  acknowledged  later,  with  a  little  superior 
smile,  that  she  might  have  reasons. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  39 

She  was  sitting  at  the  window  of  the  farmhouse  par- 
lor one  evening,  her  little  table  drawn  up  to  the  win- 
dow-sill, so  that  she  could  inhale  the  perfume  of  the  late 
roses  and  catch  glimpses  of  the  golden  autumnal  sky, 
when  her  solitude  was  disturbed  by  a  visitor.  A  quick 
manly  tread  sounded  through  the  passage  of  the  house, 
then  a  side  door  into  the  garden  was  opened,  and  a 
man  in  shooting  trim,  with  a  brace  of  pheasants  dan- 
gling from  one  hand,  came  out  into  the  garden,  with 
Mrs.  Brown  behind  him. 

"I  think  you'll  find  Miss  Ellison  and  her  brother  out 
here,  sir,"  she  was  saying.  "They  were  sitting  in  the 
arbor  not  long  ago." 

So  they  had  been;  but  Esther  had  come  indoors  to 
do  some  work,  and  Arthur  had  removed  himself  and 
his  pipe  to  his  bedroom.  Both,  however,  heard  the 
words,  which  brought  Arthur  to  his  window,  where, 
hidden  by  the  muslin  curtain,  he  looked  with  raised 
eyebrows  at  this  unexpected  visitor.  Esther  did  not 
seem  to  move:  he  wondered  that  she  did  not  make 
some  sign  of  her  presence.  If  he  could  have  seen  her, 
he  might  have  noticed  that  her  pen  fell  from  her  hand 
and  the  rich  carnation  stole  to  her  soft  brown  cheek. 

"I  wonder  who  this  is,"  thought  Mr.  Ellison,  eyeing 
the  newcomer.  "Very  well  got  up :  very  well  groomed 
— has  Miss  Esther  set  up  an  admirer?  Or  is  it  only 
some  message  from  Westhills?" 

"I  think  they  have  left  the  arbor,  Mrs.  Brown,"  said 
a  quiet,  pleasant  voice.  "It  does  not  matter:  I  came 
only  to  leave  these  birds  with  Lady  Charlotte's  com- 
pliments. Part  of  the  day's  bag,  you  know." 


40  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"They  are  beautiful  birds,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Brown, 
with  empressement.  "You're  quite  a  large  party  stay- 
ing at  Hurst  for  the  shooting,  I  hear,  Mr.  Thorold, 
sir.  I  hope  you're  going  to  give  it  a  mistress  of  its  own 
before  long." 

The  listeners  wondered  a  little  at  her  freedom.  But 
Mrs.  Brown  had  once  been  head  of  the  nursery  at 
Hurst,  and  had  known  its  master  since  he  was  a  baby 
in  arms. 

Justin  Thorold  laughed  at  the  remark,  but  a  keen  ob- 
server might  have  fancied  a  touch  of  embarrassment 
in  his  answer. 

"I  shall  let  you  know  when  I  am  thinking  of  it,  Mrs. 
Brown.  And  now,  if  Miss  Ellison  is  out — '' 

"I  am  not  out,  Mr.  Thorold,"  said  Esther,  putting 
her  head  out  of  the  window,  between  the  sprays  of 
rose  and  jessamine  which  made  a  many-tinted  frame 
for  it.  Arthur  felt  that  he  could  hear  her  smile  in  her 
voice.  "I  am  listening  to  all  you  say,  so  I  hope  you 
are  not  talking  secrets.'' 

It  was  rather  cheeky  of  her  to  say  that,  thought 
Arthur  discontentedly :  but  then  a  man  is  always  criti- 
cal of  the  behavior  of  his  female  relations.  "She  must 
know  him  very  well  yet  she  has  scarcely  ever  men- 
tioned his  name  to  me." 

But  perhaps  her  silence  had  been  more  significant 
than  words. 

Mr.  Thorold  started  a  little,  and  drew  closer  to  the 
window  with  a  somewhat  eager  look.  He  was  a  man 
of  middle  height,  well-made  but  with  a  touch  of  stu- 
dent's stoop  at  the  shoulder,  though  there  was  noth- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  41 

ing  peculiarly  student-like  in  the  resolute,  intelligent, 
serious  face,  with  its  observant  hazel  eyes  and  the  sug- 
gestion of  satire  in  the  proud  and  slightly  supercilious 
lip.  Arthur  remembered  the  face,  as  that  of  a  mem- 
ber of  Parliament  whose  influence  was  already  felt  al- 
though he  was  a  comparatively  young  man:  he  had  a 
curiously  cool  and  trenchant  way  of  stating  his 
opinions  which  gave  him  unusual  individuality.  He 
had  published  a  pamphlet  or  two  and  he  was  beginning 
to  be  known  as  an  authority  on  education:  it  was 
probable  that  he  would  one  day  be  a  man  of  mark. 

"Esther  flies  high,"  said  Arthur  to  himself,  with  a 
little  sneer.  But  his  smile  grew  more  genuine  as  he 
thought  of  the  position  she  might  occupy,  if  she  ever 
became  the  wife  of  a  man  like  Justin  Thorold.  "She 
would  be  very  useful  to  me,"  said  the  budding  author 
and  journalist. 

"You  heard  my  message  then,  or  part  of  it,"  said  Mr. 
Thorold,  approaching  the  window  so  closely  that  Ar- 
thur almost  lost  sight  of  him,  although  his  voice  still 
floated  up  to  the  listener's  ears.  Evidently  he  had  shak- 
en hands  with  Esther  through  the  window,  and  was 
now  leaning  on  the  sill.  "Lady  Charlotte  sends  the 
birds  I  brought,  of  which  Mrs.  Brown  has  relieved  me, 
by  the  way,  and  hopes  you  will  find  them  useful.  Also 
she  wishes  me  to  convey  her  love  to  you,  and  to  ask 
you  and  your  brother  to  lunch  at  Westhills  on  Sun- 
day." 

"It  is  very  kind  of  Lady  Charlotte,"  said  Esther. 
There  was  some  indecision  in  her  tone. 


42  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"You  have  no  other  engagement,  I  hope?"  said  Mr. 
Thorold. 

"None — thank  you.'' 

"Then  I  may  tell  my  cousin  that  you  will  come.  I 
meant  to  make  this  an  occasion  of  calling  on  your 
brother,"  he  went  on,  "but  I  was  detained  till  late  at 
Westhills — we  have  been  shooting  all  day — ,  and  now 
I'm  afraid  Mr.  Ellison  is  out." 

"I  do  not  know  where  he  is:  I  saw  him  in  the  gar- 
den, just  now,  but — " 

"Ah,  don't  move,  please.  I  shall  see  him  another 
day.  I  shall  make  his  acquaintance  on  Sunday,  if  not 
before." 

"You  will  be  at  Westhills  on  Sunday?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"But  I  thought  your  house  was  full  of  visitors — that 
you  had  a  large  party  of  shooting  men  at  Hurst?" 

He  laughed  lightly.  "Most  of  them  are  going  to- 
morrow, I  am  delighted  to  say;  and  the  two  or  three 
that  remain  will  have  to  entertain  themselves  on  Sun- 
day. I  shall  plead  important  business." 

"Oh!" 

"Does  that  shock  you?  I  know — you  are  so  won- 
derfully sincere." 

"Oh,  indeed,  I  am  not — not,  at  least,  more  than  other 
people." 

"I  beg  leave  to  dissent,  Miss  Ellison.  It  has  al- 
ways struck  me  that  you  had  more  sincerity  than  most 
people.  I  believe  you  would  be  quite  incapable  of  indi- 
rectness or  deceit." 

"Please  don't  say  so,"  pleaded  Esther,  with  genuine 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  43 

distress  in  her  tone.  "I  shall  feel  as  if  I  were  mas- 
querading— as  if  you  did  not  know  me  in  my  true 
colors — " 

"Confound  the  girl!"  said  the  unseen  listener  to  him- 
self. "She'll  make  him  think  there's  something  shady 
about  her  past  if  she  gets  on  like  that!" 

But  Esther's  words  conveyed  no  special  meaning  to 
Mr.  Thorold's  mind. 

"You  have  the  unusual  peculiarity,"  he  said,  "of  not 
liking  to  be  praised.  I  have  noticed  it  before.  Most 
women  are  fond  of  flattery." 

"I  think  I  like  flattery  very  much,"  said  Esther,  ral- 
lying, and  recovering  her  vivacious  tone.  "Only  it  has 
to  be  administered  with  great  care — and  in  small  doses, 
I  think — or  else  it  palls  upon  one.  And  it  is  a  great 
mistake,  you  know,  not  to  economize  one's  enjoy- 
ments." 

"I  am  not  reputed  to  fall  often  into  the  mistake  of 
flattering  any  one  too  much,"  said  Mr.  Thorold  laugh- 
ing. 

"No,  I  have  heard  you  are  very  severe." 

"I  am  never  severe  when  I — respect,"  he  said. 
There  was  a  very  long  pause  before  the  last  word :  one 
might  have  thought  that  he  was  going  to  use  a 
stronger  one.  A  little  silence  followed :  Arthur  won- 
dered what  the  silence  meant. 

It  did  not  mean  so  much,  perhaps,  as  he  imagined. 
Justin  Thorold  was  leaning  against  the  window-sill, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Esther's  dark,  brilliant,  bewitch- 
ing little  face:  Esther,  with  her  dark  eyelashes  cast 
down,  was  twisting  a  spray  of  purple  clematis  in  her 


44  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

fingers.  Mr.  Thorold  slowly  put  out  his  hand  and 
touched  the  flower.  "May  I  have  it?"  he  said,  so  softly 
that  Arthur  did  not  hear. 

The  flower  changed  hands.  Esther  smiled  a  little, 
but  she  made  no  reply. 

"Well,  I  must  be  off,"  said  Justin,  moving  to  a  more 
erect  position  as  he  arranged  the  purple  blossom  care- 
fully in  his  button-hole.  ''We  dine  at  eight,  and  I 
shall  only  just  be  home  in  time.  You  will  be  at  Lady 
Charlotte's  on  Sunday,  then?" 

"Yes,  thank  you." 

He  ought  by  rights  to  have  gone,  but  he  still 
lingered.  It  seemed  as  if  he  found  it  hard  to  drag 
himself  away. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  been  able  to  interest  Lisa  in 
her  work,"  he  said.  "It  is  so  good  for  her  to  have 
an  object  in  life.  Her  friends  are  all  very  much  obliged 
to  you." 

"I  was  half  afraid  that  Lady  Charlotte  would  not 
thank  me  for  imbuing  her  with  such  an  ardent  desire 
to  go  to  Oxford." 

"It  is  a  much  more  sensible  thing  for  her  to  do," 
said  Thorold  with  vehemence,  "than  to  lead  an  aim- 
less, useless  life  at  Westhills,  with  nothing  in  the 
world  to  look  forward  to  but  marriage !" 

"I  think  Miss  Daubeny  is  incapable  of  that  sort 
of  life,"  said  Esther. 

He  laughed  suddenly,  as  if  he  were  pleased.  "I 
like  to  hear  you  say  so,"  he  said.  "I  like  to 
hear  you  stand  up  for  her.  It  is  mutual,  you  know: 
she  is  devoted  to  you — already." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  45 

The  last  word  was  again  said  after  a  pause,  and  in 
a  lower  tone. 

"Now  I  must  really  go.     Good-bye,  Miss  Ellison." 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Thorold." 

There  was  still  a  pause  before  he  actually  moved 
away.  Arthur  risked  discovery  by  craning  his  neck 
over  the  window  ledge,  but  he  could  see  nothing. 

Indeed,  there  was  nothing  to  see.  Only  two  clasped 
hands,  and  the  long  look  of  a  man  and  woman  into 
each  other's  eyes — a  look  that  tells  so  much  to  them, 
and  means  so  little  to  those  who  do  not  understand. 
Then  Justin  Thorold  strode  away,  throwing  a  last 
look,  a  last  "Good-bye"  over  his  shoulder  to  the  girl 
who  had  charmed  the  heart  out  of  him  for  the  first 
time  since  he  was  a  boy  and  had  been  jilted  by  a 
woman  who  wanted  to  marry  a  lord  instead  of  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman. 

Esther  stood  for  a  time  exactly  where  he  had  left 
her,  with  a  happy  wondering  smile  upon  her  lips.  Was 
it  possible? — she  asked  herself,  without  putting  the 
question  any  farther  into  words.  Was  it  possible,  she 
meant,  that  a  man  like  Justin  Thorold,  a  man  of  in- 
tellect, wealth,  social  position,  was  actually  in  love 
with  her,  a  poor  little  nobody,  a  mere  school-teacher, 
paid  to  come  down  from  London  for  a  summer  to  cor- 
rect Miss  Daubeny's  Latin  exercises,  and  to  point  out 
the  faults  in  her  English  composition.  Esther  was 
not  without  the  grain  of  conceit  which  lurks  in  the 
mind  of  every  girl  who  has  done  better  than  her  fel- 
lows in  an  Academic  course,  and  has  competed  suc- 
cessfully with  men  for  Academic  honors.  But  all 


46  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

her  conceit,  such  as  it  was,  seemed  to  have  died  down 
beneath  a  new-born  faith  in  some  one  wiser  and  loftier 
than  herself,  a  respect  amounting  almost  to  rever- 
ence for  a  man  who  could  calmly  put  aside  delights 
and  live  laborious  days  for  a  cause  that  he  had  at 
heart,  who  spent  his  life  in  thankless  toil  for  a  nation 
that  would  never  bless  him,  probably  never  even  dis- 
tinguish his  name  from  hundreds  of  other  voluntary 
law-makers  at  St.  Stephen's,  jeered  at  by  the  public 
and  considered  only  in  the  light  of  rank  and  file.  Not 
that  she  thought  Justin  Thorold  deserving  of  so  lowly 
a  place;  but  that  she  knew  the  ingratitude  of  the 
world,  and  that  he  was  willing  to  work  without  re- 
ward. 

She  did  not  think  of  Arthur:  she  supposed  him 
to  be  out,  and  she  did  not  imagine  that  he  had  listened 
from  his  window  to  her  conversation  with  Mr.  Thor- 
old. And  when  she  mentioned  that  gentleman's  visit, 
and  his  message,  Arthur  did  not  betray  himself,  but 
heard  what  she  had  to  say  with  a  perfectly  unmoved 
countenance.  He  knew  Esther  too  well  to  dare  to 
congratulate  her  on  the  conquest  that  she  had  made. 

But  as  he  sat  at  table  and  talked  to  her,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  distinctly  new  idea  which  Justin  Thor- 
old's  attentions  had  suggested  to  him.  "If  she  marries 
this  man,  why  should  not  I  marry  Lisa  Daubeny? 
There  is  no  more  disparity  on  the  one  side  than  on 
the  other.  They  cannot  decently  refuse  her  to  me  if 
Thorold  marries  my  sister.  What  a  brilliant  idea  of 
mine  to  say  that  I  was  her  brother — I  hardly  gave 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  47 

myself  credit  for  such  foresight!"  And  he  laughed  so 
loudly,  as  he  thought  of  the  possibilities  of  the  future, 
that  Esther  was  surprised  and  asked  him  why  he  was 
amused.  But  he  did  not  take  her  into  his  confidence. 


48  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  OPINIONS   OF   LISA. 

X 

Lisa  Daubeny  had  led,  on  the  whole,  a  lonely  life. 
It  was  not  Lady  Charlotte's  fault;  Lady  Charlotte  had 
racked  her  brains  for  plans  to  make  her  niece  happy: 
she  procured  games,  toys,  books,  governesses  and 
masters  for  her  in  unlimited  quantity.  She  had  taken 
her  abroad,  and  in  due  time  had  presented  her  at 
court,  where  her  dress  had  been  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  expensive  of  the  year,  just  as  Lisa  herself  had 
been  one  of  the  fairest  of  all  the  debutantes.  It  would 
have  been,  perhaps,  a  mistake  to  say  that  Lisa  was  not 
happy;  but  she  had  a  sense  of  something  wanting  in 
her  life,  and  she  did  not  know  exactly  what  it  was. 

Perhaps  it  was  love.  And  yet  Lady  Charlotte  did 
love  her  niece  very  heartily;  but  it  was  not  her  way  to 
be  demonstrative  or  sympathetic.  And  the  natures 
of  the  two  women  jarred  even  more  essentially  when 
Lisa  was  grown  up  than  when  she  had  been  a  child. 
Lady  Charlotte,  with  all  her  literary  gifts — and  that  she 
possessed  these  all  the  world  was  agreed — was  essen- 
tially an  "out-door"  woman.  She  could  ride,  row, 
swim,  shoot,  as  well  as  many  a  sportsman;  she  was 
fond  of  mountain  climbing  and  other  forms  of  hard 
physical  exercise;  she  had  even  begun,  of  late,  to 
mount  a  bicycle,  and  bade  fair  to  become  an  accom- 
plished wheelwoman.  Lisa  shared  none  of  these 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  49 

tastes,  although  Lady  Charlotte  had  done  her  best 
to  develop  them.  The  girl  had  been  forced  into 
riding  and  swimming  and  rowing,  because  her  aunt 
had  thought  them  good  for  her;  but  she  disliked  all 
forms  of  exercise  except  dancing  and  quiet  walking 
along  a  country  road.  She  was  really  very  timid,  al- 
though she  tried  to  conceal  the  fact.  She  liked  books, 
music,  needle-work,  poetry — all  the  things  that  are 
usually  called  feminine ;  and  although  there  was  noth- 
ing sentimental  or  namby-pamby  about  her,  she  was 
exceedingly  sensitive  to  the  touch  of  exalted  feeling, 
such  as  we  call  romance. 

When  Lady  Charlotte  was  out  in  the  fields  or  in 
the  woods — for  she  was  a  capital  farmer  as  well  as  a 
sportswoman — Lisa  was  reading  Shelley  or  Swinburne 
in  a  sheltered  nook  at  home.  When  Lady  Charlotte 
was^  skimming  the  Times  and  delivering  herself  of 
impassioned  diatribes  against  prominent  politicians, 
Lisa  was  weaving  delicate  fancies  into  exquisite  needle- 
work of  costly  materials  and  rainbow  hues.  Or  while 
Lady  Charlotte  dipped  into  the  memoirs  of  the  last 
century  and  wrote  scathing  reviews  of  modern  books 
of  which  she  did  not  approve,  Lisa  was  playing 
Schubert's  sonatas  or  the  weirder  melodies  of  Chopin 
and  of  Grieg.  The  aunt  and  niece  had  insensibly 
drifted  far  apart,  and  the  gulf  between  them  was  widen- 
ing every  day. 

Curious  to  relate,  it  was  Lady  Charlotte  who  was  the 
more  conscious  of  this  division  and  it  was  to  Lady 
Charlotte  that  it  brought  the  more  pain.  Lisa  was 
young-  and  did  not  know  exactly  what  she  wanted:  the 


50  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

older  woman  understood  better,  and  did  not  know  how 
to  supply  the  want.  For  all  her  strong-mindedness 
and  her  numberless  interests  in  life,  Lady  Charlotte 
felt  her  heart  ache  sometimes  when  she  looked  at 
Lisa.  The  girl  was  so  far  away !  And  she  had  hoped, 
when  Lisa  came  first  as  a  tiny  child,  that  she  would 
be  to  her  as  a  daughter.  But  she  had  lacked  some 
power  of  showing  her  love;  and  the  child  had  grown 
into  a  girl  who  was  amiable,  gentle,  docile  enough,  but 
— to  Lady  Charlotte's  mind — a  little  cold. 

When  she  had  been  presented  and  had  gone  to  a 
good  many  parties  and  seen  something  of  the  world, 
Lisa  suddenly  grew  restless.  She  began  to  have  vague 
aspirations  after  a  Career,  and  to  talk  of  the  Higher 
Education  of  Women.  Whereat  Lady  Charlotte  had 
smiled,  well-pleased,  thinking  that  here  she  saw  the 
influence  of  Justin  Thorold,  whom  she  had  always  de- 
signed to  be  Lisa's  husband.  Justin  was  wild  ifpon 
education;  and  he  had  always  been  very  kind  and  at- 
tentive to  Lisa,  lending  her  books  and  showing  a 
kind  interest  in  her  pursuit.  It  was  a  vexation  to 
Lady  Charlotte  that  Westhills  would  one  day  pass  to 
Justin  Thorold,  as  her  husband  had  no  nearer  relative, 
and  did  not  wish  to  alienate  his  estate  from  his  own 
family;  while  she,  on  her  side,  had  little  of  her  own 
and  not  enough  to  make  Lisa  a  rich  woman,  although 
the  girl  would,  as  Esther  had  surmised,  have  a  fair 
dowry  on  her  wedding  day.  But  Lady  Charlotte's 
affection  for  her  niece  made  her  doubly  anxious  that 
she  should  marry  Justin,  and  thus  become  ultimately 
mistress  of  the  house  over  which  the  imperious  daugh- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  51 

ter  of  the  celebrated  Lady  Muncaster  now  reigned  in 
supreme  autocracy.  So  Lisa's  interest  in  the  subject 
of  education  was  hailed  as  a  happy  augury. 

Then  Esther  Ellison  came  on  the  scene,  and  Lady 
Charlotte  still  rejoiced.  Lisa  had  expressed  her  de- 
sire for  a  woman-coach  who  would  spend  the  summer 
at  Westhills  or  in  lodgings  close  by;  and  the  Warden 
of  the  Women's  College  to  whom  Lady  Charlotte  had 
applied  gave  Miss  Ellison  the  warmest  of  recommen- 
dations. She  came,  saw  and  conquered;  but  not  ex- 
actly in  the  way  that  had  been  expected.  She  cap- 
tured Lisa's  heart;  that  was  all  right;  but  she  seemed 
rather  likely  to  capture  Mr.  Thorold's  heart  as  well; 
and  that  was  what  nobody  had  designed  or  intended. 

Lady  Charlotte  saw  nothing,  suspected  nothing. 
When  Lisa,  inspired  by  Esther's  enthusiasm,  began 
to  sigh  after  the  pleasures  of  a  College  life,  her  aunt 
smiled  benignantly  upon  her  and  sent  her  to  talk  to 
Justin.  And  although  Lisa  was  fond  of  Justin  in  a 
sisterly  way,  she  knew  very  well  that  he  did  not  care 
very  much  to  talk  to  her  unless  she  made  Esther 
Ellison  the  subject  of  the  conversation;  and  she  felt 
extreme  enjoyment  in  doing  so.  There  was  a  delight- 
ful sense  of  freedom,  even  of  license,  in  encouraging 
Justin  Thorold  to  fly  in  the  face  of  his  relations  by 
choosing  a  dear  little  working-woman  for  his  wife 
instead  of  the  well-born,  well-bred,  aristocratic  maiden 
who  had  been  selected  for  him.  Lisa  had  always  been 
Conscious  of  instincts  of  revolt,  and  they  had  been 
strengthened  by  her  intercourse  with  Esther,  and  her 
increasing  knowledge  of  the  intellectual  world. 


52  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

In  the  interval  that  had  elapsed  beween  Arthur  El- 
lison's first  introduction  to  Westhills  and  the  invita- 
tion to  lunch  which  Justin  Thorold  had  carried  to  the 
farm,  the  young  man  had  more  than  once  visited  the 
Byngs.  Lady  Charlotte  took  an  interest  in  his  literary 
ambitions:  Mr.  Byng,  an  amiable,  scholarly  man  in 
rather  delicate  health,  showed  him  his  library;  and 
Lisa — what  did  Lisa  do  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
new  guest? 

She  kept  rather  aloof  from  him,  regarding  him 
sometimes  with  a  sort  of  serious  curiosity,  as  a  being 
of  different  order  from  any  she  had  yet  encountered. 
She  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  ordinary  young  man 
of  society,  and  did  not  admire 'the  type;  she  had  also 
met  a  number  of  old  and  middle-aged  men  who  were 
celebrated  in  one  way  or  another — as  writers,  trav- 
elers, artists  and  politicians.  Plenty  of  these  men 
came  down  to  stay  at  Westhills,  to  be  made  much  of 
by  Lady  Charlotte  and  to  compliment  her  in  turn. 
Lisa  heard  them  talk,  but  she  never  said  very  much 
to  them  They  generally  thought  her  shy.  She  was 
not  so  much  shy  perhaps,  as  self-absorbed. 

After  all,  the  young  observer  said  to  herself,  these 
men  who  had  achieved  a  reputation  were  not  so  inter- 
esting as  they  must  have  been  in  their  youth.  They 
were  resting  on  their  oars:  they  were  no  longer  striv- 
ing against  the  stream.  She  often  wondered  what  they 
had  been  like  when  they  were  in  the  midst  of  their 
strenuous  efforts  to  succeed :  they  must  have  had  more 
life,  more  energy,  more  brilliance,  she  thought,  than 
they  seemed  to  have  now.  Lady  Charlotte  was  not  a 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  53 

person  who  greatly  encouraged  the  presence  of  young 
aspirants  about  her,  literary  or  artistic:  men  in  their 
salad  days  would  not  attract  her,  she  sometimes  said. 
Lisa  had,  therefore,  few  opportunities  of  putting  her 
theories  to  the  test. 

But  now,  she  thought,  she  had  an  opportunity. 
Esther's  brother,  a  young  literary  man,  fresh  from  the 
vaguely  beautiful  land  which  she  figured  to  herself 
as  "Bohemia,"  full  of  hope  and  aspiration  and  en- 
deavor, he  must  surely  be  one  of  these  budding 
geniuses  of  whom  she  had  so  often  heard.  She  was 
quietly  glad  that  her  aunt  had  let  him  visit  Westhills; 
she  was  not  always  so  hospitable  to  strangers.  She 
wanted  tc  study  him :  to  discern  the  coming  greatness 
of  his  name:  to  behold  and  admire. 

And  in  all  this  she  was  not  so  simple  as  it  might 
appear:  for  Arthur  Ellison  had  in  very  truth  a  con- 
siderable poetical  talent,  as  well  as  an  acutely  critical 
turn  of  mind;  and  Lady  Charlotte,  to  whom  he  had 
submitted  some  of  his  productions,  had  deigned  to 
speak  very  well  of  them  and  to  offer  him  an  introduc- 
tion to  her  own  particular  publishers.  This,  from 
Lady  Charlotte,  was  high  praise  and  favor,  as  Lisa 
knew. 

On  the  morning  of  the  Sunday  on  which  the  Elli- 
sons had  been  invited  to  lunch,  Lady  Charlotte  treated 
her  niece  to  quite  a  long  commentary  on  some  verses 
that  Arthur  had  sent  up  to  read.  They  were  break- 
fasting in  a  sunny  cheerful  room  overlooking  a  charm- 
ing view  of  the  Surrey  hills.  Mr.  Byng  was  lazily  cut- 
ting the  leaves  of  his  Spectator:  Lady  Charlotte,  in  a 


54  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

loose  tea-gown  of  flowered  silk,  alternately  drank 
chocolate  and  read  aloud  some  lines  of  Arthur's  poems : 
Lisa,  who  had  finished  her  breakfast  already,  sat  with 
her  eyes  fixed  dreamily  on  a  great  bowl  of  yellow 
rosejs  and  burning  auiumn  leaves  that  adorned  the 
table,  and  listened  to  ner  aunt's  reading  and  remarks. 

"He  really  has  something  in  him/'  she  said  at  last, 
slapping  the  last  sheet  down  on  the  table-cloth  and  lay- 
ing her  hand  upon  it:  "and  judging  from  his  attempt 
at  a  sketch,  I  scarcely  thought  he  had.  It  was  the 
most  feeble  thing  I  think  I  ever  saw.  I  should  advise 
him  henceforth  to  abandon  the  pencil  and  stick  to  the 
pen." 

"We  cannot  all  have  your  versatile  tastes,  Charlotte," 
said  Mr.  Byng,  with  a  complimentary  little  smile  in 
her  direction. 

"We  may  have  them,  but  we  need  not  give  way  to 
them,"  rejoined  Lady  Charlotte  dryly.  "I  sincerely 
hope  Mr.  Ellison  will  curb  them  when  they  take  the 
direction  of  art." 

"You  think  he  does  better  in  poetry?"  said  Mr. 
Byng  politely.  He  had  not  much  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject, but  he  made  a  point  of  following  his  wife's  lead. 

"The  man's  a  born  poet,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
shortly.  Then,  as  if  not  wishing  to  commit  herself  too 
far,  she  added:  "That  is  to  say,  he's  got  the  poetic 
gift.  He  isn't  a  Shelley  or  a  Keats.  But  he  will 
make  a  very  good  singer  of  verses  for  the  drawing- 
roorn  and  the  boudoir." 

"But  one  hardly  calls  that  being  a  poet!"  exclaimed 
Lisa,  moved  out  of  herself. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  55 

"Well,  I  will  go  a  step  further  and  say  that  he  will 
be  a  poet  for  the  study,  for  the  library.  His  verses 
won't  go  to  the  hearts  of  men,  but  they  will  be  accepted 
by  the  publishers.  Your  modern  poet  hardly  cares  for 
more  than  that." 

Lisa  looked  down  and  bit  her  lips.  But  Lady  Char- 
lotte was  unconscious  of  any  desire  to  depreciate  Ar- 
thur's verses  She  thought  that  she  had  given  them 
a  very  fair  meed  of  praise. 

"I  don't  see  why  they  shouldn't  succeed,"  said  Lady 
Charlotte  musingly.  "They  are  light  and  graceful, 
and  he  has  tried  some  pretty  metrical  experiments. 
His  prose  is  good  too.  He  sent  me  a  very  pretty  lit- 
tle thing  on  the  pride  of  ignorance — quite  a  smart 
little  thing.  I  think  he  ought  to  be  pushed." 

"An  introduction  from  you  to  Mr.  Dorian  will  go 
a  long  way,"  said  her  husband,  alluding  to  the  emi- 
nent publisher  whom  Lady  Charlotte  asked  to  dinner 
when  she  was  in  town  and  allowed  to  publish  her 
books. 

"Hm — I  was  thinking  rather  of  a  secretaryship,  or 
something  of  that  sort.  However,  he'll  get  on.  He  is 
the  sort  of  young  man  that  will.  There  is  a  certain 
kind  of  success — not  the  highest  kind — written  on 
his  very  face." 

She  caught  Lisa's  eyes  fixed  on  her  in  a  sort  of 
curious  doubt. 

"Ah,  you  mustn't  tell  the  gypsy  all  I  say,  Lisa.  I 
think  very  highly  of  her  brother's  abilities,  tell  her 
that.  I  am  glad  she  brought  him  down:  we  may  be 
able  to  do  something  for  him — though  I  am  bound 


56  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

to  say  that  she  did  not  look  absolutely  delighted  when 
he  turned  up  at  Westhills." 

"That  was  Esther's  delicacy  of  feeling,  I  think," 
said  Lisa  quickly.  "She  was  afraid  we  should  think 
she  was  trying  to  force  her  relations  upon  us." 

"Esther's  not  a  fool/'  said  Lady  Charlotte.  "She 
knows  well  enough  that  nobody's  relations  could  be 
forced  upon  me." 

Then  she  rose,  leaving  the  papers  on  the  table,  and 
walked  towards  the  window,  whistling  as  she  went. 
It  was  a  trick  of  Lady  Charlotte's  to  whistle  when  she 
was  absorbed  in  thought. 

"There's  the  church  bell,"  she  said  at  last,  very 
briskly.  "Howard!" 

"I  don't  feel  well  enough  to  go  to  church  this  morn- 
ing, my  love,"  said  Byng,  who  answered  to  this  name. 

"Then,  Lisa,  you  must  go  alone.  I  am  much  too 
busy.  Dorian  has  sent  me  a  manuscript  that  he  par- 
ticularly wants  my  opinion  upon  by  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. I'll  glance  through  it  while  you  are  at  church. 
I  expect  it's  some  frightful  trash  or  other.  And,  Lisa, 
you  need  not  let  out  to  the  Ellisons  that  I  read  for 
Dorian  now  and  then.  Young  Ellison  would  be  ex- 
pecting me  to  get  all  his  things  accepted;  and  that's 
too  much  of  a  good  thing." 

She  left  the  room  as  she  spoke,  and  Lisa  silently 
gathered  up  the  loose  sheets  of  verse  which  were  scat- 
tered about  the  table.  Mr.  Byng  aided  her  with  a  sort 
of  humorous  politeness,  which  expressed  itself  more 
forcibly  in  the  remark  that  he  made  in  handing  her  the 
last  leaf  of  the  little  bundle: — 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  57 

"My  lady's  swans  are  usually  parti-colored  ones,  I 
think." 

Lisa  smiled  and  took  the  sheets  away. 

She  would  have  liked  to  dream  over  them  all  the 
morning  instead  of  going  to  church;  but  her  con- 
science smote  her  for  this  unholy  preference,  and  she 
made  haste  to  don  her  pretty  Sunday  hat  and  coat,  and 
her  perfectly-fitting  gray  kid  gloves.  Thus  equipped, 
with  an  ivory  and  silver  prayer-book  in  her  hand,  she 
looked  as  grave  and  devotional  as  any  fair  saint  on  a 
painted  window;  and  all  the  while  her  mind  was  run- 
ning on  certain  lines  which  Lady  Charlotte  had  de- 
clared to  have  quite  an  Elizabethan  ring,  and  which,  as 
she  did  not  seem  to  have  noticed,  were  the  only  ones 
that  bore  date.  They  were  by  no  means  as  good  as 
some  of  the  others:  yet  Lisa  remembered  them  for 
some  secret,  undefined  reason,  better  than  the  rest. 
How  did  they  begin? — 

"Lady,  serene  and  still, 
That  shinest  as  the  stars  above  me, 

Had  I  the  skill 
I  vow  I  would  refuse  to  love  thee.'' 

and  so  on,  through  two  or  three  verses  which  repre- 
sented the  lady  of  his  love  as  an  overmastering  influ- 
ence that  took  away  from  him  all  power  to  resist  his 
fatal  love  for  her.  The  date  scrawled  at  the  end  was 
that  of  the  day  on  which  he  had  first  visited  Westhills. 
Lisa  told  herself  that  she  was  absurd,  that  it  w^s 
almost  unmaidenly  to  attach  any  importance  to  this 
effusion — although  it  had  evidently  been  written  on 
the  evening  after  his  visit,  and  bore  a  half-effaced  ''To 


58  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

L "  upon  the  wrong  side  of  the  paper.  She  could 

not  help  remembering  that  he  had  looked  at  her  a 
good  deal,  in  a  furtive  kind  of  way;  and  that  once  she 
had  met  his  eyes.  *  *  * 

Oh,  what  was  she  thinking  about?  In  church,  too, 
upon  her  knees,  with  her  eyes  closed  and  her  chin  rest- 
ing on  her  clasped  hands!  She  was  resolved  to  give 
all  her  attention  to  sacred  things;  but  it  was^very  dis- 
concerting to  find  that  Mr.  Ellison  was  sitting  just 
opposite  to  her,  in  such  a  position  that  he  was  almost 
obliged  to  rest  his  eyes  upon  her  face.  Lisa  bowed 
her  head  lower  and  tried  hard  to  forget  that  he  was 
there. 

Coming  out  of  church,  they  met  the  Ellisons  in  the 
porch,  and  Justin  Thorold  in  the  churchyard.  They 
all  walked  up  to  Westhills  together,  pairing  off  when 
the  path  was  narrow  in  proper  and  conventional  fash- 
ion: Mr.  Thorold  with  Miss  Ellison,  Mr.  Ellison  with 
Miss  Daubeny.  And  it  was  then  that  Lisa  found  a 
moment  to  tell  her  companion  that  Lady  Charlotte 
had  spoken  highly  of  his  poems. 

"And  you?  Did  you  read  them?"  he  asked,  with 
a  culpable  negligence  of  what  Lady  Charlotte  thought. 

"Yes,  I  read  them.     I  liked  them  very  much." 

Arthur's  sensitive  face  flushed  with  gratification. 
It  was  part  of  his  charm — for  he  certainly  had  a 
charm  for  women,  young  or  old — that  he  was  so 
eagerly  responsive  to  the  opinions  and  judgments  of 
others.  He  was  depressed  if  a  chance  acquaintance 
disapproved  of  him:  he  was  elated  if  a  beggar  called 
a  blessing  on  him  from  the  skies.  And  when  he 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  59 

genuinely  valued  the  good  word  of  a  person,  h'e  was 
ready  to  take  almost  any  means  of  securing  it.  Praise 
was  the  breath  of  his  nostrils:  "recognition,"  as  he 
called  it,  the  pole-star  of  his  existence. 

Lisa  could  not  be  but  pleased  to  see  the  pleasure 
with  which  her  approval  was  received.  Then  she  had 
to  tell  him  which  poem  she  liked  best,  and  why;  and 
she  exerted  all  her  powers  to  answer  his  questions  in 
the  way  that  she  thought  would  satisfy  him  best. 
But  neither  of  them  mentioned  those  four  scrawled 

verses  dated  "September  10,"  addressed  "To  L ". 

Possibly  they  had  been  placed  with  the  others  by  mis- 
take. 

Innocent  Lisa,  in  spite  of  her  experience  of  the 
world,  Arthur  Ellison  was  not  the  man  to  make  that 
kind  of  mistake. 

"Ah,  good  people,  here  you  are!"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte cheerfully,  as  the  party  entered  the  hall.  She 
had  changed  her  morning  robe  for  an  unmistakably 
Parisian  gown  of  bronze  silk,  heavy  and  rich,  with  old 
repousse-work  gold  buttons:  she  had  donned  with  it 
the  air  of  a  woman  of  fashion,  and  was  more  conven- 
tional than  usual — it  was  the  customary  effect  of  Mr. 
Thorold's  presence,  and  her  intimate  friends  described 
it  by  saying  that  he  was  the  only  person  in  the  world 
who  knew  how  to  keep  her  in  order.  At  any  rate,  she 
was  always  supremely  agreeable  to  him,  telling  her 
best  stories  in  his  presence,  and  abstaining  from  ex- 
pressions that  might  shock  his  ears:  also,  she  neither 
smoked  nor  whistled  (in  public),  if  he  we're  in  the 
house.  People  attributed  this  self-restraint  to  her  de- 


60  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

sire  that  Thorold  should  marry  Lisa;  but  it  had  in 
reality  a  deeper  root.  She  thoroughly  liked  and 
esteemed  Justin,  and  as  she  was  very  much  the  creature 
of  her  moods,  it  cost  her  no  trouble  to  be  to  him  all 
that  she  knew  he  liked  a  woman  to  be.  She  was  frank, 
genial,  good-natured,  witty:  showing  her  generous 
and  noble  side,  not  the  scornful  and  defiant  one  with 
which  the  world  was  so  well  acquainted.  Justin  liked 
her  in  return,  and  was  wont  to  say  that  he  could  never 
understand  why  Lady  Charlotte  had  so  many  enemies. 

She  seemed  inclined  that  day  to  lay  herself  out  to 
make  friends.  She  was  infinitely  charming  to  Arthur, 
spoke  of  his  poems  in  very  complimentary  terms,  and 
assured  him  that  she  would  do  all  in  her  power  to 
get  him  work  such  as  he  desired.  A  secretaryship? 
A  readership  in  a  publisher's  house?  A  well-paid 
clerkship  even?  These  were  the  things  that  would 
suit  him.  And  thence — her  mellow  voice  ran  like 
music  through  well-rounded  periods — thence  he 
would  rise  to  eminence  in  the  world,  to  riches  and 
success,  as  other  men  had  done,  and  his  life  would  be 
one  of  those  fortunate  ones  which  are  held  up  as  ex- 
amples and  incentives  to  those  who  should  come  after 
him. 

"What  does  Lady  Charlotte  mean  by  this  rhodomon- 
tade?"  thought  Justin  Thorold,  as  he  noted  the  grati- 
fied flush  on  Arthur's  cheek,  and  the  half-veiled  inter- 
est in  Lisa's  eyes.  He  could  not  understand  it;  but 
he  consoled  himself  with  the  reflection  that  when  Lady 
Charlotte  took  up  a  notion,  she  never  failed  to  overdo 
it,  and  that  she  was  never  afraid  of  an  extravagance. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  61 

But  seeing  that  this  young  man  was  Esther's  kins- 
man, and  that  he,  Justin  Thorold,  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  make  this  brown-faced  little  girl  his  wife,  he 
got  a  little  vexed  and  uneasy  at  the  way  in  which,  as 
he  phrased  it,  Lady  Charlotte  was  "making  a  tool  of" 
his  future  brother-in-law. 


62  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

CHAPTER  V. 

RELICS. 

"Now,"  said  Lady  Charlotte  after  lunch,  "I  want 
Mr.  Ellison  to  come  into  the  library  and  look  at  the 
relics." 

Arthur  heard  her  with  dismay.  He  had  planned 
in  his  own  mind  to  sit  beside  Lisa  and  turn  over  his 
own  poems,  one  by  one,  with  her.  He  had  not 
counted  upon  Lady  Charlotte's  increasing  friendliness. 
Why  did  she  not  retire  to  her  own  room  and  go  to 
sleep,  like  other  middle-aged  ladies  on  a  Sunday  after- 
noon? Such  energy  in  a  woman  of  her  age  was  al- 
most indecent.  But,  of  course,  he  could  not  refuse. 
Rather  sulkily  he  followed  his  hostess's  rustling 
brown  silks  along  a  wide  corridor  and  into  the  charm- 
ing, book-lined  room  which  was  called  the  library. 
What  she  meant  by  the  "relics,"  he  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  inquire.  Some  musty  remains  of  antiquity, 
he  supposed:  utterly  uninteresting  to  him. 

Lisa  followed,  a  few  paces  behind;  but  the  others 
had  disappeared.  Mr.  Byng  knew  the  virtues  of  an 
afternoon  nap,  if  his  wife  did  not;  and  Justin  had 
drawn  Esther  inside  the  conservatory  to  look  at  a 
remarkable  begonia.  How  Arthur  envied  and  hated 
them  at  that  moment!  He  would  have  liked  to  go 
with  Lisa — anywhere,  to  see  a  begonia  or  anything 
else  in  the  whole,  wide  world,  so  that  he  might  have 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  63 

her  to  himself.  Love  was  like  an  epidemic  among 
these  young  people  in  the  soft  September  days;  they 
fell  victims  one  after  another  with  curious  facility,  and 
it  was  almost  pathetic  to  see  Lady  Charlotte's  utter  un- 
consciousness of  the  fact.  She  carried  her  queenly 
presence  to  and  fro  among  them  without  in  the  least 
knowing  that  it  was  a  disconcerting  embarrassment. 
After  all,  as  she  herself  would  very  sensibly  have  said, 
the  duties  of  life  and  the  convenances  of  society  do 
not  entirely  come  to  an  end  because  two  pairs  of  young 
fools  have  fallen  in  love  with  each  other. 

She  moved  about  the  room  a  little,  opening  a  shut- 
ter, unlocking  a  glass  case,  moving  some  papers  to 
another  place,  all  with  that  fine  grace  of  movement 
which  distinguished  her.  People  who  knew  her 
slightly,  who  heard  only  of  her  untrammeled  speech 
and  daring  modes  of  action,  used  to  expect  to  find  her 
a  noisy  woman;  whereas,  with  all  her  eccentricities, 
Lady  Charlotte  had  singularly  polished  manners,  when 
she  chose,  and  was  capable  of  receiving  a  queen  or  an 
empress  with  as  much  well-bred  ease  as  she  received 
the  wife  of  a  curate.  To  £  rthur's  half-dazed  mind,  she 
seemed  like  a  specimen  of  an  unknown  genius;  the 
representative  of  a  class  with  larger  minds,  finer  cul- 
ture, and  more  complete  possession  of  the  world,  than 
the  men  and  women  of  our  own  day.  But  he  was  a 
little  dazzled  by  what  he  saw. 

"I  thought  I  should  like  to  show  you  some 
memorials  of  my  family,  Mr.  Ellison.  They  came  to 
me  through  my  mother.,  of  course,"  said  Charlotte  care- 
lessly. Mr.  Byng's  family,  although  highly-respect- 


64  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

able,  was  not  of  remote  origin,  and  Lady  Charlotte  was 
proud  of  her  own.  "That  is  Queen  Mary's  snuff-box, 
patch-box  sounds  better,  perhaps;  she  gave  it  to  an 
ancestor  of  mine  at  Fotheringay.  And  here  is  a 
lock  of  King  Charles's  hair:  Charles  the  Martyr,  of 
course,  I  mean.  There  is  a  letter  of  Stratford's  in  that 
case;  and  a  book  of  Hours  which  is  said  to  have  be- 
longed to  him.  Don't  be  shocked  when  I  tell  you  that 
these  two  yellow  papers  are  love-letters  written  by 
Prince  Rupert  to  one  of  my  far-away  great-grand- 
mothers. But  she  was  a  very  virtuous  lady  and  would 
have  nothing  to  say  to  him.  You  see  that  string  of 
beads?  It  belonged  to  one  of  Queen  Anne's  poor  lit- 
tle babies;  and  here's  a  letter  written  by  the  poor  lit- 
tle Duke  of  Gloucester  to  his  governor." 

"They  are  most  interesting  relics  of  the  past,"  mur- 
mured Arthur,  rather  vaguely.  He  was  far  more  in- 
terested in  the  present,  and  let  his  eyes  wander  to  Lisa's 
face  even  while  Lady  Charlotte  discoursed  of  miniature, 
of  which  she  had  a  goodly  store,  of  charms,  gauds  and 
baubles,  all  of  historic  value,  of  royal  love-letters,  and 
original  manuscripts  of  songs  and  dramas,  more  prized 
than  all  the  rest.  She  had  indeed  a  fine  collection  of 
valuable  and  interesting  objects,  which  at  some  mo- 
ments would  have  held  Arthur's  attention  completely; 
but,  try  as  he  would  on  this  occasion,  to  listen  to  Lady 
Charlotte's  explanations,  his  mind  would  wander  to 
the  slender  whiteness  of  Lisa's  fingers,  to  the  shining 
coils  of  hair  on  her  graceful  head,  to  the  soft  blue 
shadows  underneath  her  eyes.  He  had  a  quick,  sensi- 
tive imagination,  and  it  was  fascinated  by  Lisa's  har- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  65 

monies  of  form  and  coloring:  the  peculiar  essence 
of  her  beauty  had  gone  to  his  head  like  wine. 

Lady  Charlotte  thought  him  less  intelligent  than  he 
looked;  but  finally  hit  on  the  idea  that  he  had  a  social- 
istic tendency  and  cared  little  for  the  relics  of  kings  and 
queens.  Thereupon,  with  her  usual  decisiveness,  she 
shut  up  one  of  her  glass  cases  before  she  had  detailed 
half  its  contents,  and  said: 

"Well,  we  can  keep  these  for  another  time.  I  think 
you  have  seen  the  best.  What  I  want  you  to  see  now 
may  be  more  interesting  than  these  things  to  you, 
Mr.  Ellison;  and  I  have  something  to  ask  you  about 
them  too." 

Mr.  Ellison  became  aware  that  his  inattention  had 
appeared  discourteous,  and  was  beginning  to  "con- 
found^ himself,  as  the  French  say,  in  excuses,  when 
Lady  Charlotte  cut  him  short. 

"All  right:  I  know  everybody  does  not  care  about 
curiosities;  but  the  papers  I  am  going  to  show  you 
are  not  curiosities  exactly:  they  are  family  docu- 
ments." 

Arthur  looked  up  eagerly.  Why  was  she  going  to 
show  him  family  documents?  If  she  had  such  con- 
fidence in  him  already,  would  she  not  be  willing  by 
and  by 

"They're  in  this  cabinet,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
shortly.  "I  generally  keep  the  key  on  this  chain  at  my 
waist,  so  that  nobody  has  much  chance  of  getting  to 
them,  d'ye  see?  Lisa,  child,  go  and  see  whether  they 
have  brought  up  the  tea,  and  make  Miss  Ellison  have 


6fi  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

some.  I'll  bring  Mr.  Ellison  back  to  the  drawing-room 
by  and  by." 

Arthur's  heart  sank,  but  he  felt  that  he  had  more 
power  of  attending  to  his  imperious  hostess  in  Lisa's 
absence  than  in  her  presence,  and  he  resigned  himself 
with  a  sigh.  Lady  Charlotte  opened  drawer  after 
drawer,  and  displayed  piles  of  old-fashioned  letters, 
with  funny  little  red  seals,  and  square  yellow  sheaves 
of  paper  covered  with  crabbed  manuscript.  He  looked 
at  them  with  repugnance:  did  she  mean  to  make  him 
read  any  or  all  of  these? 

"I  am  not  going  to  inflict  them  upon  you,"  she  said, 
perhaps  reading  the  secret  dismay  upon  his  counte- 
nance, "but  I  want  you  to  look  at  one  of  them — any 
one  will  do — and  tell  me  whether  you  find  the  writing 
easy  to  decipher." 

"Not  very  easy,"  said  Arthur,  after  a  few  moments' 
survey  of  the  sheet  she  held  out  to  him,  "but  I  fancy 
a  little  practice  is  all  that  is  wanted  to  make  it  perfectly 
legible.  One  needs  to  know  the  trick  of  a  hand  like 
that." 

"Exactly  what  I  say,"  returned  Lady  Charlotte, 
nodding  her  head  triumphantly,  "now  Lisa  can't  read 
a  word  of  it — says  it  is  utterly  undecipherable ;  and  my 
husband  declares  that  the  mere  sight  of  it  tires  his  eyes; 
but  I  can  read  it  easily  enough,  and  so  would  you  with 
a  little  practice.  How  are  you  at  languages?  French, 
Latin,  of  course:  any  Italian?" 

Arthur  discerned  in  these  questions  a  purpose  which 
made  his  heart  leap. 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  67 

"I  have  read  Dante,"  he  said,  "and  of  late  I  have 
been  dipping  into  modern  Italian  novels." 

"Ah,  that  would  do  perfectly  well.  It  seems  to  me, 
Mr.  Ellison,  that  you  are  the  very  person  I  have  been 
trying  to  find  for  the  last  two  or  three  years — if,  at 
least,  you  are  at  all  in  want  of  a  job." 

"I  am  utterly  idle  at  present,"  said  Arthur  lightly, 
"and  want  congenial  work  more  than  anything  else  in 
the  world.'' 

"I  wonder  whether  it  would  suit  you,"  said  Lady 
Charlotte,  eyeing  him  keenly.  "It's  a  project  of  mine 
which  I  don't  want  all  the  world  to  hear.  I  was  think- 
ing of  telling  you  something  about  it,  and  asking  you 
whether  you  could  do  a  little  of  it  for  me." 

"I  shall  be  very  happy,  if  I  am  competent,"  said  Ar- 
thur, with  rising  color. 

"It  would  not  be  difficult  or  responsible  work — what 
I  want  done.  The  chief  thing  is  trustworthiness  in  the 
agent  I  employ,  and  fair  knowledge  on  certain  points. 
I  need  not  question  the  trustworthiness  of  our  dear 
little  Miss  Ellison's  brother." 

For  the  first  time,  Arthur  felt  really  uncomfortable 
on  the  question  of  his  relationship  to  Esther.  He  had 
not  expected  to  owe  anything  more  than  an  introduc- 
tion to  his  supposed  sister,  and  he  knew  in  his  heart 
that  he  ought  to  avow  the  truth  but — if  he  did  so,  what 
would  be  the  result?  Lady  Charlotte  would  certainly 
be  angry;  she  was  not  a  woman  whom  he  could  make 
a  fool  of  with  impunity:  she  would  refuse  him  the  com- 
mission she  spoke  of:  she  might  even  forbid  him  the 
house.  And  for  what  reason?  A  simple,  harmless 


68  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

little  trick — a  deception  scarce  worthy  of  the  name — 
would  she  say  that  it  made  him  untrustworthy  in  her 
eyes?  She  might;  and  he  dare  not  run  the  risk. 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time.  When  he  had  made  his  decision 
— a  more  important  one  than  he  knew — Lady  Char- 
lotte was  again  speaking,  in  a  quiet  narrative  tone. 

"These  papers,  I  must  tell  you,"  she  said,  "consist  of 
the  private  memoirs  of  my  grandfather,  his  correspond- 
ence with  a  number  of  celebrated  people,  and  some 
letters  belonging  to  other  members  of  my  family.  I 
have  long  intended  to  weave  them  into  a  connected  his- 
tory of  my  grandfather's  life,  with  some  account  of 
my  mother  also,  and  of  the  part  she  took  in  European 
politics.  You  can  imagine  how  interesting  and  im- 
portant such  a  book  would  be." 

"Quite  so,"  said  Arthur. 

"But  you  see,  it  can't  be  published,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte, brusquely. 

"Indeed?    And  why " 

"There  are  too  many  things  implicating  other  peo- 
ple: too  many  scandals,  too  many  political  jobs.  He 
left  word  that  no  memoir  of  him  should  appear — that 
none  of  his  journals  should  be  published — until  the 
beginning  of  a  new  century.  There  are  some  years 
•still  to  run,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  it  J  don't  believe 
in  secret  histories,  and  I  daresay  there  is  nothing  but 
what  the  world  knows  already.  The  book  will  appear 
in  1900,  and  not  a  day  before." 

"You  mean  to  compile  a  life  of  him  then?"  said  Ar- 
thur, becoming  interested  at  last,  for  he  had  heard 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  69 

too  much  of  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Belfield,  father  of 
Lady  Muncaster,  to  be  unaware  of  the  importance  that 
would  attach  to  the  publication  of  these  memoirs. 

"I  want  to  begin  the  work.  I  am  forty-nine  al- 
ready. I  shall  be  growing  old  by  the  time  the  book 
can  be  published.  I  am  the  last  of  the  family — ex- 
cept Lisa,  my  sister's  daughter,  and  she  has  no  capacity 
for  that  kind  of  work.  I  hold  it  the  most  sacred  duty 
of  my  life  to  set  these  papers  in  order  while  I  have 
health  and  strength  to  do  it." 

Lady  Charlotte's  voice  dropped  to  a  mellow  recita- 
tive during  the  last  sentence.  She  was  sitting  before 
the  open  cabinet,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  her 
dark  eyes  resting  on  the  papers,  her  mind  evidently 
far  away.  She  looked  so  like  some  majestic  Sibyl  of 
ancient  days  that  Arthur  did  not  dare  to  break  in  upon 
her  silence  with  any  commonplace  question  of  his 
own.  Yet  he  was  growing  anxious  to  know  what  she 
wanted  him  to  do. 

"The  first  thing  to  be  done,"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
rousing  herself  from  her  reverie,  and  speaking  in  an 
ordinary,  practical  tone,  "is  that  the  letters  and  manu- 
scripts should  be  carefully  transcribed.  Some  of  this 
work  I  shall  have  to  do  myself,  of  course;  but  some 
of  it  can  be  done  by  any  competent  person.  Certain 
letters  will  have  to  be  translated  from  French  or 
Italian  originals.  Will  you  undertake,  Mr.  Ellison,  to 
try  a  little  of  this  work  under  my  supervision,  if  you 
are  staying  here  with  your  sister  for  a  time?" 

"I  shall  be  honored  by  taking  any  share  in  the 
work,"  said  Arthur  respectfully. 


70  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Of  course,  I  shall  have  to  test  you  a  little,"  said 
Lady  Charlotte  with  a  smile.  "You  will  have  to  come 
for  a  day  or  two  upon  trial,  and  let  me  see  what  hand 
you  make  of  it.  I  begin  work  at  nine;  if  you  could 
come  from  nine  to  twelve  or  one  even'  day '' 

"Certainly,  Lady  Charlotte." 

"I  think  it  would  be  worth  your  while  if  you  have 
nothing  else  to  do,"  she  said  indifferently.  And  she 
mentioned  terms  in  an  incidental  manner,  which  made 
Arthur  Ellison's  heart  glow  within  him  with  delight. 

"In  the  meantime,  you'll  keep  my  counsel,"  she 
said,  rising  from  her  seat,  and  closing  the  drawers  of 
the  cabinet.  "I  must  swear  you  to  secrecy,  you  know. 
Tell  your  sister  I  want  you  to  do  a  little  secretarial 
work — copying  of  letters  and  so  on.  That  will  pre- 
vent her  from  asking  any  questions.  And  you  under- 
stand, you  are  not  to  tell  anybody  of  these  memoirs" — 
she  darted  a  look  of  fire  at  him,  as  she  spoke. 

"Your  ladyship  may  depend  upon  my  absolute  si- 
lence," said  Arthur,  bowing,  and  speaking  with  un- 
wonted gravity  and  ceremoniousness.  He  felt  that  it 
would  not  be  possible  to  refuse  anything  that  Lady 
Charlotte  demanded,  or  to  break  his  word  to  her  when 
once  passed.  A  want  of  good  faith  would  be  the  last 
thing  she  would  forgive.  And  she  would  not  easily 
stay  her  hand  if  an  offender  came  within  reach  of 
punishment.  Arthur  felt  sobered  by  this  conviction. 

"Then  we'll  go  back  to  the  drawing-room.  They'll 
wonder  what  has  become  of  us,"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
her  face  which  had  been  for  a  moment  overcast,  clear- 
ing as  if  by  a  sudden  flash.  "I  am  much  obliged  to 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  71 

you,  Mr.  Ellison,"  she  added,  so  cordially  that  Arthur 
almost  proposed  for  Lisa's  hand  upon  the  spot. 

He  followed  her  to  the  drawing-room  in  a  state  of 
suppressed  exultation  which  he  was  careful  not  to  be- 
tray. He  did  not  want  Lady  Charlotte  to  suppose  that 
her  proposition  was  at  all  wonderful.  But  he  was  filled 
with  the  greatest  gratification.  She  was  about  to  take 
him  into  her  confidence,  to  associate  him  with  herself 
in  what  she  termed  the  most  sacred  duty  of  her  life: 
did  not  all  this  imply  increasing  intimacy,  such  as 
would  warrant  him  in  asking  very  soon  for  Lisa's  hand? 
And  she  knew  so  little  of  him  too.  She  must  have 
formed  a  very  high  idea  of  his  abilities;  and  Arthur's 
heart  glowed  at  the  thought.  The  only  draw-back  to 
his  satisfaction  was  the  remembrance  that  he  was 
bound  not  to  speak  of  his  work,  even  to  Esther;  and  as 
he  always  had  an  uneasy  consciousness  that  Esther 
thought  less  well  of  him  than  he  believed  to  be  his 
desert,  he  would  have  liked  to  have  convinced  her  of 
Lady  Charlotte's  appreciation.  He  even  debated  with 
himself  whether  he  might  not  make  an  exception  to 
the  law  of  secrecy  in  Esther's  case,  forgetting  that 
Lady  Charlotte  had  decisively  excluded  her  from  con- 
fidence. Esther  would  promise  not  to  betray  him,  if 
he  told  her:  was  he  not  justified  in  counting  on  her 
loyalty?  And  it  would  be  an  immense  comfort  to 
him  to  have  her  sympathy,  and  sometimes  even  the 
assistance  of  her  judgment.  But  very  reluctantly  he 
gave  up  the  idea;  she  might  be  questioned  as  to  her 
knowledge,  and  although  she  would  not  expose  him 
to  harm,  if  she  could  help  it,  he  knew  her  to  be  ab- 


72  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

solutely  incapable  of  a  lie.  It  gave  him  a  greatly  in- 
creased sense  of  importance  that  he  should  be  admitted 
to  a  confidence  which  Esther  did  not  share. 

Naturally,  the  Lady  Charlotte  Byng's  views  on  the 
matter  differed  from  his  own.  When  the  visitors  had 
left  the  house,  she  flung  herself  down  on  a  lounge  in 
the  hall,  clasped  her  hands  high  above  her  head,  and 
said,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction : 

"I've  done  one  good  stroke  of  business,  Howard. 
I've  secured  that  idle  young  man  to  transcribe  dear 
grandpapa's  papers  for  me." 

She  did  not  see  that  Lisa  turned  a  little,  with  a  quick 
movement,  and  a  rising  flush,  as  if  to  protest  against 
something  in  her  speech.  It  was  Mr.  Byng  who  pro- 
tested openly,  although  in  rather  a  different  way. 

"My  dear  Charlotte,"  he  said,  putting  up  the  single 
eyeglass  which  gave  a  look  of  fictitious  keenness  to  his 
mild,  pale  face,  "how  has  Mr.  Ellison  managed  to  im- 
press you  with  his  fitness  for  so  important  an  under- 
taking?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  very  much,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
carelessly.  "A  little  literary  facility,  a  sufficient  ac- 
quaintance with  Latin,  French,  and  Italian — German 
also,  if  possible — of  which  I  have  yet  to  judge;  a  good 
hand  o'  write,  as  the  Scotch  say,  and  the  morale  of  a 
gentleman — that's  all  I  require,  and  I  have  been  seek- 
ing it  these  seven  years." 

"Which  proves  that  it  was  not  so  easy  to  find  as  it 
appeared,"  said  Mr.  Byng  sententiously.  "How  do 
you  know  that  he  has  the  morale  of  a  gentleman,  for 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  73 

instance?  You  have  not  known  him  more  than  ten 
days  or  a  fortnight!'' 

"Oh,  Uncle  Howard!  Esther's  brother!"  Lisa 
breathed,  rather  than  spoke,  in  gentle  deprecation. 

"Well,  yes,  Esther's  brother,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
boldly.  "It  is  a  recommendation  in  itself,  for  Esther 
Ellison  is  a  lady  to  the  fingertips.  I  don't  fancy  that 
a  brother  of  hers  could  be  wanting  in  the  essential 
elements  of  honor.  I  have  told  him  that  the  book 
is  not  to  be  talked  about,  and  he  has  given  me  his 
word  not  to  mention  it." 

"It  would  be  a  pity  if  your  distinguished  grand- 
father's wishes  could  not  be  carried  out  in  their  en- 
tirety on  account  of  the  imprudence  or  the  want  of 
faith  of  this  young  gentleman,  who,  we  must  remem- 
ber, is  a  journalist  by  profession,''  said  Mr.  Byng, 
resuming  his  book  quietly. 

"Good  Lord!"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  raising  herself 
a  little,  and  bending  her  beautiful  dark  brows  at  her 
husband.  "You  don't  suppose  I  am  such  a  fool  as 
really  to  entrust  any  documents  of  importance  to  his 
hands?  Until  I  know  him  better  than  I  do  now,  I 
shall  be  extremely  careful  as  to  what  he  sees,  I  can 
tell  you.  It  is  just  the  unimportant  papers  that  I 
want  copied;  there's  a  mass  of  minor  matters  and 
official  correspondence  that  I  cannot  undertake  to  wade 
through.  All  I  want  from  Ellison  is  mechanical,  sec- 
retarial work — clerk's  work,  if  you  like." 

"I  should  have  thought  that  Mr.  Ellison's  abilities 
deserved  better  employment,"  said  Lisa,  not  so  much 


74  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

with  resentment — she  dared  not  show  resentment — as 
with  a  touch  of  polite  remonstrance  in  her  tone. 

"He  has  not  done  much  yet,"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 
"He's  clever,  yes,  but  he  has  much  to  learn.  It  will 
do  him  no  harm  to  associate  and  be  associated  with 
us  for  a  few  weeks,  and  I  shall  make  it  amply  worth 
his  while.  I  thank  the  gods  for  sending  me  so  suitable 
an  assistant,  here  in  the  very  wilds  of  Surrey.  With- 
out my  looking  for  him,  he  has  dropped  from  the 
skies.  It  simplifies  my  work  very  much  for  the  next 
six  months,  and  I'll  give  him  an  excellent  testimonial 
and  dozens  of  introductions  if  he  does  his  part  respect- 
ably. Oh,  I'm  quite  prepared  to  treat  him  handsomely. 
He  and  his  sister  have  been  a  great  find  to  us  this 
autumn." 

"I  am  glad  you  are  prepared  to  treat  him  with  cau- 
tion," said  Mr.  Byng.  "But  I  find  a  difficulty  in 
seeing  how  you  can  prove  whether  he  is  trustworthy 
or  not,  until  it  is  too  late  to  withdraw  from  the  arrange- 
ment." 

Lady  Charlotte  showed  her  strong  white  teeth  in  a 
laugh  that  lighted  up  her  face  like  sunshine. 

"Oh,  you  men  have  no  ideas,"  she  said  good- 
humoredly.  "I  have  laid  my  plans  with  very  great 
care,  although  you  seem  to  think  me  so  imprudent. 
I  have  one  excellent  safeguard — Lisa,  you  are  not  to 
repeat  what  I  say  to  the  Ellisons;  do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Charlotte,"  said  Lisa  obediently. 

"I  have  warned  the  young  man  against  telling  even 
his  sister  about  the  book.  Miss  Ellison  is  the  soul 
of  truthfulness,  and  if  he  tells  her  anything,  I  shall 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  75 

read  it  in  her  eyes.  And  in  that  case  I  shall  drop 
him  like  a  hot  coal,  for  if  he  is  unfaithful  in  that 
matter,  I  shall  feel  no  trust  in  him  when  it  comes  to 
a  greater  one." 

"It  is  rather  like  setting  a  trap  for  him,"  said  Mr. 
Byng. 

"Is  it  quite  fair,  Aunt  Charlotte?" 

"Quite  fair.  You  are  rather  sentimental  in  your 
ideas,  you  two,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  with  perfect  good 
temper.  "Don't  you  see  that  if  the  young  man  is  a 
gentleman,  with  right  principles  and  a  sense  of  honor 
and  all  the  rest  of  it,  my  'trap,'  as  you  call  it,  will  not 
affect  him  in  the  least.  And  if  he  is  devoid  of  these 
right  sentiments,  the  sooner  he  is  trapped  the  bet- 
ter!" 

She  took  up  a  book  as  if  to  end  the  discussion,  and 
Lisa,  with  flushed  cheeks,  stole  away  to  muse  over 
the  poems  that  her  hero  had  left  behind,  and  to  mar- 
vel at  the  suspicious  tendencies  of  elder  folk. 

It  crossed  her  mind,  of  course,  that  she  might  warn 
Esther  of  the  "trap"  set  for  Mr.  Ellison,  or  even  speak 
to  Arthur  himself  upon  the  subject;  but  she  decided 
that  such  an  action  would  be  lowering  to  herself  and 
insulting  to  her  friends.  Esther  was  the  soul  of  truth- 
fulness, as  Lady  Charlotte  had  said,  and  her  brother 
must  be  like  herself. 

So  it  was,  perhaps,  just  as  well  that  Arthur  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  keep  the  secret  of  his  work  under  Lady 
Charlotte's  tutelage. 


76  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
IN   THE    CONSERVATORY. 

While  Arthur  was  inspecting  the  relics  and  con- 
ferring with  Lady  Charlotte  in  the  library,  Esther  had 
been  drawn  away  by  Mr.  Thorold  to  admire  the  flow- 
ers in  the  conservatory.  Mr.  Byng  was  as  passion- 
ately fond  of  his  "glass"  as  Lady  Charlotte  was  of 
her  garden  and  her  farm;  and  his  begonias  and  his 
orchids  were  the  pride  of  his  heart.  He  went  with 
his  visitors  through  the  houses,  expatiating  on  the 
beauty  and  rarity  of  his  specimens;  he  even  cut  a 
few  choice  blossoms  for  Esther,  who  knew  enough  of 
his  preferences  to  appreciate  the  honor  he  did  her; 
and  finally  he  returned  to  the  palm-house  for  a  quiet 
cigarette,  while  Justin  escorted  his  companion  to  the 
long  conservatory  that  ran  the  length  of  the  dining- 
room,  where  he  found  her  a  comfortable  seat  among 
the  fragrant  flowering  plants. 

"But  where  is  Arthur,  I  wonder?''  Esther  said,  a 
little  uneasily.  She  had  already  noticed  dangerous 
signs  of  a  desire  on  Arthur's  part  to  gaze  rather  too 
persistently  in  Lisa's  direction,  and  she  was  anxious 
about  him  when  he  was  in  Lisa's  society.  But  Jus- 
tin's answer  reassured  her. 

"He  is  in  the  library  still  with  Lady  Charlotte.  I 
think  she  has  some  designs  on  him.  I  know  she  has 
been  wanting  a  secretary  for  some  time."  He  didn't 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  77 

say  a  "copyist,"  lest  he  should  hurt  Esther's  feelings; 
but  he  believed  that  Lady  Charlotte's  requirements 
would  really  be  best  described  by  that  word.  "Do 
you  think  he  would  care  for  work  of  that  sort?" 

"It  is  what  he  has  been  looking-  for.  It  would  be 
delightful  for  him!  But  Lady  Charlotte  cannot  want 
a  secretary  for  any  length  of  time?" 

"No;  it  would  be  a  mere  temporary  thing,  but  it 
might  be  worth  his  while  to  take  it.  I  should  con- 
sider association  with  Lady  Charlotte  a  privilege  in 
itself;  she  is  a  woman  of  very  wide  information;  as 
was  said  of  another  lady,  'to  know  her  is  a  liberal 
education,'  and  especially  valuable  to  a  literary  man. 
Your  brother  has  literary  tastes,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,"  said  Esther.  "He  writes  for  newspapers — 
and  poems  sometimes,"  she  added  with  a  smile. 

"It  is  a  delightful  facility,"  said  Mr.  Thorold,  sitting 
down  beside  her.  "I  often  wish  I  had  time  and  talent 
for  it;  but  Blue-books  and  Parliamentary  reports  do 
not  form  the  best  kind  of  preparation  for  poetry.'' 

Esther  was  struck  by  the  unusual  amount  of  formal- 
ity in  his  tone.  His  manner  was  generally  considered 
cold  and  formal;  the  young  legislator  seemed  to  find 
it  rather  difficult  to  unbend  in  general  society;  but 
with  Esther  his  tone  had  generally  relaxed.  She  found 
it  hard  to  imagine  that  it  was  he  who  had  asked  for 
the  purple  clematis  in  her  hand  a  few  nights  before; 
the  voice,  the  accent,  seemed  to  her  studiously  differ- 
ent. She  wondered  what  the  change  portended;  and 
why  he  should  stay  beside  her  at  all  if  he  were  so  cold 
and  indifferent.  Perhaps  he  was  staying  only  for 


78  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

politeness'  sake,  and  it  was  her  part  to  relieve  him 
of  an  unpleasing  social  duty. 

"Lady  Charlotte  is  perhaps  expecting  me  in  the 
library,"  she  said,  making  a  movement  as  if  to  rise. 
"I  want  to  see  the  miniatures  again  so  very  much 

''Won't  the  miniatures  wait  for  another  day?"  he 
asked,  quite  quietly.  "I  have  not  so  very  often  the 
chance  of  speaking  to  you,  and  I  thought  we  might 
have  had  a  little  talk." 

She  settled  herself  again  into  her  seat  without  a 
word.  It  was  foolish  of  her,  she  thought,  to  be  unable 
to  reply  to  so  simple  and  commonplace  a  remark ;  but 
there  was  something  disconcerting  in  his  tone — or  in 
his  eyes,  she  did  not  know  which;  and  under  its  in- 
fluence she  could  not  find  a  word  to  say. 

"I  am  afraid  sometimes,"  he  went  on,  "that  Blue- 
books  and  Reports  do  not  make  a  very  interesting 
companion.  May  I  speak  of  myself  a  moment?  You 
may  have  heard  that  my  cousin,  Howard  Byng,  is 
almost  my  only  living  relation;  I  suppose  very  few 
people  are  so  much  alone  in  the  world  as  I.'' 

"You  are  like  me  in  that  respect,"  said  Esther,  find- 
ing her  voice  again  when  his  accents  became  cold  and 
dry.  "I,  too " 

She  stopped  suddenly. 

"But  you  have  your  brother — a  much  closer  rela- 
tion than  a  cousin,"  said  Mr.  Thorold. 

Esther  colored  hotly;  the  yoke  of  Arthur's  "harm- 
less little  deception"  weighed  very  heavily  upon  her. 
She  would  not  endure  it  a  moment  longer;  at  any 
cost,  she  must  speak! 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  79 

"But  Arthur  is  not — not  my  brother,"  she  began, 
hurriedly  and  indistinctly.  "He  is  only " 

"Of  course — of  course,  I  remember.  He  is  your 
half-brother;  Lady  Charlotte  was  telling  me.  That 
accounts  for  the  difference  in  your  complexions — his 
so  fair  and  yours  so  dark — I  suppose.  Still,  a  half- 
brother  is  much  nearer  than  a  cousin,  especially  when 
you  are  such  good  friends;  and  as  you  can  see  for 
yourself,  Howard  Byng  and  I  have  not  much  in  com- 
mon; he  cannot  be  said  to  count  for  much  in  my 
life." 

"No,"  said  Esther,  trying  to  nerve  herself  to  inter- 
rupt him  again.  But  he  had  a  calm,  deliberate  way 
of  speaking  which  seemed  to  impose  delay  upon  her; 
she  resigned  herself  perforce  to  making  the  disclosure 
another  time. 

"I  have  always  felt  a  little  lonely  at  Hurst,  ever  since 
I  left  the  University  and  took  up  my  abode  at  the  old 
place,"  continued  Justin.  "You  see,  I  can  remember 
such  a  different  kind  of  life  there:  a  family  life,  with 
father,  mother,  a  nursery  full  of  children,  every  kind 
of  thing  that  goes  to  make  up  enjoyment  and  delight. 
The  place  even  now  seems  strange  to  me  sometimes; 
I  fancy  I  hear  my  brothers  and  sisters  shouting  and 
playing  in  the  garden — it  is  an  odd  delusion " 

"You  are  too  much  alone,"  said  Esther,  sympathetic- 
ally, as  he  paused. 

"Yes,  I  am  too  much  alone.  I  fill  the  house  with 
acquaintances  from  time  to  time,  shooting  men,  polit- 
ical friends,  men  whom  I  like  and  whose  society  I 


80  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

enjoy;  but  it  does  not  make  the  place  a  home  to  me, 
as  it  used  to  be  in  the  days  gone  by." 

Esther  was  afraid  of  pauses.  She  spoke  again,  when 
his  tongue  halted.  "You  had  several  brothers  and  sis- 
ters?" 

"There  were  six  of  us;  I  am  the  only  one  left. 
Three  died  in  one  week  of  diphtheria,  and  my  dear 
mother  never  held  up  her  head  again.  Then  the  two 
boys  were  drowned — a  boating  accident  on  the  Thames 
— and  for  a  time  my  father  and  I  were  left  alone  to- 
gether. He  died  before  I  went  to  College,  and  since 
then — oh,  well,  I  have  had  as  many  friends  as  most 
men,  but  I  have  had  no  home  life.  And  I  am  rather 
a  domestic  man  by  nature,  I  believe;  I  should  like  to 
have  a  home." 

"You  are  fond  of  Hurst?" 

"Yes,  I  love  Hurst.  I  have  been  asked  to  let  it — 
even  to  sell  it;  but  I  have  never  entertained  the  idea 
for  a  moment.  The  home  of  one's  childhood  always 
stands  first.  You  have  never  seen  Hurst,  have  you, 
Miss  Ellison?" 

"Never." 

"It  is  not  a  big  grand  place  like  this,"  said  Justin, 
waving  his  hand  towards  the  house,  with  a  little  smile. 
"It  is  quite  humble  and  unpretending — a  little  red 
brick  house  among  the  trees,  with  a  good  deal  of  ivy 
growing  almost  over  the  windows.  They  say  it  is 
not  very  healthy — but  I  should  have  it  looked  to  if 
it  were  going  to  be  used  again."  He  added  the  last 
words  quickly.  "I  should  set  about  cleaning,  paint- 
ing, redecorating,  and  all  the  rest  of  it!" 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  81 

"Oh,  wouldn't  that  be  a  pity!"  said  Esther  impul- 
sively. 

He  looked  decidedly  gratified. 

"I  should  leave  it  as  much  unaltered  as  possible," 
he  said;  "but  it  would  not  do  to  risk  the  health  of 
one  who  is  dear  to  me " 

"Your  own  health  may  be  in  danger,  then?  Oh, 
Mr.  Thorold,  if  that  is  the  case,  do  let  me  beg  of  you 
to  make  all  necessary  improvements  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  a  pity,  as  you  said  just  now?"  he 
queried,  smiling. 

"A  life  so  valuable  as  yours  ought  not  to  be  lightly 
risked." 

"I  wish,"  he  said,  bending  towards  her  and  speaking 
in  a  lower  and  very  earnest  tone,  "that  I  could  hear 
you  alter  that  expression,  and  say — 'a  life  that  is  dear 
to  me,'  as  I  did  just  now." 

Esther  remained  silent,  startled  by  the  form  of  his 
remark.  She  hardly  knew  at  first  how  much — or  how 
little — it  signified. 

"I  have  been  saying  that  I  was  lonely,"  Justin  Tho- 
rold went  on,  in  a  voice  that  was  no  longer  either 
calm  or  cold,  "and  I  was  going  to  say  that,  although 
I  have  often  tried  to  find  one  whose  presence  would 
make  a  home  of  the  old  house,  I  have  never  met  one 
whom  I  would  willingly  have  set  in  my  mother's  place 
until — until  I  met  you." 

Again  there  was  silence.  The  color  flickered  back- 
wards and  forwards  on  Esther's  face;  he  tried  to  read 
its  expression,  but  he  could  not  interpret  the  meaning 

6 


82  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

of  those  transient  blushes,  of  those  downcast  eyelashes 
and  the  mutely  bitten  lip. 

"I  want  a  companion,  Esther;  I  want  someone  to 
love.  And  I  love  you;  I  will  try  to  make  you  very 
happy,  if  you  will  consent  to  be  my  wife." 

He  was  simple  and  explicit;  it  did  not  occur  to  him 
to  wrap  up  his  desires  in  fine  language,  or  endeavor 
to  soften  her  decision  by  the  use  of  a  honeyed  phrase. 
And  the  few  straightforward  words  went  at  once  to 
Esther's  heart.  They  brought  up  her  eyes  to  his  face, 
and  the  words  to  her  quivering  lips. 

"Yes,  I  love  you,"  she  said,  as  simply  and  honestly 
as  he  himself  had  spoken;  "but — oh,  wait,  hear  me, 
please!" — as  he  put  his  hand  on  her  and  tried  to  draw 
her  closer  to  him — "I  do  not  know  what  to  answer; 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  know  what  to  say.'' 

"Say?"  he  repeated,  smilingly,  as  his  fingers  closed 
upon  hers;  "there  is  only  one  thing  to  say  after  that 
confession;  you  must  say  that  you  will  be  my  wife." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — I  don't  know,"  said  Esther, 
drawing  herself  away  and  looking  before  her  with  a 
puzzled,  almost  distressed  expression,  which  seemed 
to  him  difficult  to  understand.  "It  is  just  because 
I — I — love  you  that  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  ought. 
You  know  you  were  meant — you  were  expected  to 
marry  Miss  Daubeny." 

"Nobody  seriously  expected  it,"  he  said.  "And  Lisa 
would  never  consent — I  am  sure  of  that." 

"But— Lady  Charlotte— and  Mr.  Byng?" 

"They  are  not  my  masters,"  he  said,  smiling.  "Why 
should  I  care  what  they  say?" 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  83 

"But  Mr.  Byng  is  your  nearest  relative,  and  I  have 
heard — if  it  is  not  wrong  to  speak  of  it — that,  as  he 
has  no  children '' 

"I  am  his  heir?  That  I  shall  come  in  for  Westhills, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it?  Well,  that  is  true,"  said  Justin, 
good-humoredly.  "But  is  not  that  a  reason  for  ac- 
cepting me?" 

"Not  in  my  eyes.'5 

"No,  you  unworldly  little  woman,  I  am  sure  of 
that;  so  you  need  not  flame  out  at  me  like  that. 
What  is  it  you  mean  about  Howard  Byng,  dear?" 

"I  think  you  ought,  perhaps,  to  regard  his  wishes," 
said  Esther,  bravely,  but  without  lifting  her  eyes. 

"So  do  I,  but  not  to  the  extent  of  regulating  my 
choice  of  a  wife  by  them.  I  have  no  reason  also  to 
suppose  that  he  will  object  to  my  choice.  You  are 
a  great  favorite  here." 

"They  are  very  kind  to  me,"  said  Esther  tremulously, 
"and  I  cannot  bear  that  they  should  be  displeased,  and 
that  all  my  pleasant  relations  with  them  should  cease — 
for  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  Lady  Charlotte  will  be 
very  angry " 

"Well?"  said  Justin,  less  patiently  than  usual.  "You 
are  not  going  to  give  me  up  because  Lady  Charlotte 
is  angry,  are  you?'' 

"Oh,  no,  no!  But — may  I  speak  to  Arthur  before 
I  say  anything  more?"  said  Esther,  in  a  voice  that 
was  almost  inaudible.  She  had  turned  very  pale. 

"You  may  do  anything  you  like,  my  sweet,  now 
that  I  know  you  love  me.  Certainly  I  see  one  thing — 
it  may  be  a  little  awkward  for  you  if  I  precipitate 


84  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

matters  while  you  are  here.  How  much  longer  have 
you  to  stay,  Esther?" 

"Three  weeks,  or  a  little  more.  I  begin  my  High 
School  teaching  about  the  middle  of  October." 

"Had  you  not  better  write  to  the  High  School  peo- 
ple and  tell  them  to  find  someone  to  take  your  place?'' 

"Oh,  no!     I  must  fulfill  my  engagements."    . 

"It  is  not  that  I  have  any  objection  to  your  teach- 
ing, but  you  see,  I  want  you  at  Hurst  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. But  concerning  Lady  Charlotte:  I  will  defer 
any  announcement  of  my  intentions  until  you  are  safe 
in  London.  Will  that  do?  It  may  save  you  some 
embarrassment." 

"And  I  will  defer  my  answer  until  then,  so  that 
you  will  have  no  announcement  to  make/'  she  said, 
the  color  returning  to  her  cheek  and  the  light  to  her 
eye.  "I  will  write  to  you  from  London,  and  until  then 
there  is  nothing  between  us — nothing." 

"Nothing  but  our  love  for  each  other.  Is  that  noth- 
ing?" 

"It  is  a  great  deal — oh,  it  is  all  the  world  to  me — 
but  you  are  not  bound.  We  are  both  free — quite  free." 

"Esther,  is  there  any  obstacle?  Have  you  any  other 
tie?  Anything  that  could  ever  come  between  us?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind — nothing.  Only — you  know 
me  so  little — would  it  not  be  better  to  wait  a  little 
longer — till  you  knew  me  better?" 

There  was  a  breathless  agitation  about  her  speech, 
which  made  Thorold  look  at  her  keenly.  She  was  not 
like  herself.  Surely — surely  she  had  nothing  to  con- 
ceal? No,  there  was  truth  in  every  feature  of  her  face, 
every  glance  of  her  honest,  expressive  eyes. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  85 

"I  do  not  quite  understand  you,  Esther,"  he  said 
gently,  after  a  little  pause.  "You  are  not  usually  so 
distrustful  as  you  seem  to  be  of  me;  and  I  do  not 
see  why  you  should  think  so  much  of  Lady  Char- 
lotte's approval.  But  I  will  do  exactly  as  you  wish, 
and  you  shall  tell  me  when  I  may  tell  the  world  of 
our— engagement.'' 

"I  have  not  answered  you  yet." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have,"  he  said,  and  this  time  his  arm 
went  around  her  and  drew  her  close  to  his  side.  "You 
have  said  you  loved  me;  and  that  is  enough,  my 
darling,  and  I  can  trust  you  for  all  the  rest."  And  then 
their  lips  met  in  a  kiss  which  seemed  to  Esther  the 
realization  of  all  she  had  ever  dreamed  of  human  hap- 
piness. 

But  they  had  been  left  undisturbed  a  long  time, 
and  it  was  no  wonder  that  Andrews  looked  rather  grim 
when  he  announced  that  tea  was  served  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. Andrews  was  a  servant  of  the  highest  re- 
spectability, and  he  did  not  like  to  see  Mr.  Thorold 
sitting  in  the  greenhouse,  as  he  phrased  it,  with  the 
governess.  Esther  was  not  a  governess,  but  that  was 
all  one  with  Andrews,  who  knew  that  sire  taught  for 
her  daily  bread.  It  seemed  to  him  a  light-minded  and 
frivolous  proceeding  on  the  part  of  the  future  master 
of  Westhills. 

If  Esther  had  not  been  very  much  preoccupied,  she 
would  have  noticed  the  curious  alertness,  which  came 
from  suppressed  excitement,  of  Arthur's  manner.  She 
alone  could  have  properly  appreciated  its  meaning, 
for  to  comparative  strangers  he  did  not  seem  differ- 


86  THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

ent  from  his  ordinary  self.  But  she  saw  nothing,  heard 
nothing — so  absorbed  was  she  in  the  wonderful  rev- 
elation that  had  been  made  to  her,  the  marvelous 
change  in  all  her  future  life  which  Justin  Thorold's 
love  would  bring. 

She  was  so  silent  and  dreamy  as  she  walked  home 
with  Arthur  after  tea  that  he  grew  almost  angry  with 
her  at  last.  "I  don't  believe  you  have  heard  a  word 
I  have  been  saying,"  he  said  in  a  peevish  tone,  as 
they  entered  their  little  sitting-room. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  sitting  down  on  the  first  chair 
within  reach  and  looking  at  him  absently.  "You  have 
been  seeing  Lady  Charlotte's  relics,  and  telling  me 
about  them.  I  have  seen  most  of  them  already." 

"Did  you  hear  me  say  that  I  was  going  up  to  the 
house  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  to  do  some 
— some  writing  for  Lady  Charlotte?" 

"No,  I  did  not  hear  that.  But  Mr.  Thorold  men- 
tioned that  she  wanted  a  secretary.  Oh,  Arthur,  has 
she  really  offered  the  post  to  you?" 

"Not  actually.  But  I  am  going  to  help  her  a  little," 
said  Arthur,  with  a  nonchalant  air,  which  at  any  other 
moment  would  have  made  Esther  smile. 

"If  you  do  the  work  well,  whatever  it  is,"  she  said 
eagerly,  "Lady  Charlotte  is  the  very  person  to  rec- 
ommend you  to  others  and  get  you  a  good  position. 
The  only  thing  that  troubles  me,  Arthur,  is — her  be- 
lieving you  to  be  my  brother  still:" 

"As  if  that  mattered!" 

"It  matters  a  good  deal  to  me,"  said  Esther,  color- 
ing. "I  cannot  let  the  concealment  go  on  much 
longer/' 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  87 

"Cannot  let  it?"  said  Arthur,  in  much  displeasure. 
"I  think  that  you  forget  that  you  promised  not  to 
speak,  that  you  said  you  would  not  betray  me!" 

"Circumstances  have  altered  the  case.  Arthur,  I 
have  something  to  tell  you.  You  must  keep  my  secret," 
she  said,  trembling,  yet  half  smiling,  "for  we  do  not 
want  the  world  to  know  it  just  yet.  Mr.  Thorold " 

"He's  asked  you  to  marry  him?''  said  Arthur,  inter- 
rupting her.  "Gad,  Esther,  you  are  in  luck!" 

"He  has  asked  me,"  she  answered,  with  downcast 
eyes,  "but  I  have  not  answered  him  yet.  I  am  to 
wait  till  I  get  to  London " 

"But  you  will  accept  him  then,  I  suppose?  You 
are  not  going  to  be  such  an  idiot  as  to  refuse?" 

"I  love  him,"  she  said  simply,  and  turned  her  face 
away.  For  a  moment  Arthur  was  silent;  her  avowal 
gave  him  a  curious  pang.  He  did  not  care  for  her 
except  as  a  cousin;  and  he  was  falling  hot  in  love 
with  Lisa  Daubeny;  but  there  are  few  men  that  can 
be  absolutely  pleased  to  hear  that  the  woman  whose 
heart  was  once  theirs,  has  given  it  to  another. 

"That  means  that  you  will  marry  him  then/'  he 
said,  with  sudden  roughness.  "You've  done  very  well 
for  yourself,  Esther.  You  were  quite  right  to  throw 
me  over  and  wait  for  a  wealthier  man." 

"Don't  speak  in  that  way,  Arthur — especially  now, 
when  I  am  so  happy." 

"Well,  well !"  he  said,  with  a  short  and  bitter  laugh, 
"I'll  be  amiable  and  do  the  heavy  father  on  the  great 
occasion!  There  could  be  no  more  suitable  person 


88  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

to  give  you  away,  could  there  ?  The  brother  takes  the 
father's  place  at  these  times." 

"The  cousin  in  this  case,"  said  Esther  steadily. 

"Now,  Esther,  what's  the  use  of  making  a  fuss? 
Why  not  let  me  be  your  brother  to  the  end  of  our 
respective  lives?  No  one  will  take  the  trouble  to 
investigate  the  records,  if  we  hold  our  tongues." 

"I  could  not  keep  anything  from  the  man  I  am  to 
marry,  Arthur.  It  may  not  be  a  very  great  thing, 
but " 

"In  one  sense,  it  is  a  very  great  thing — to  you,"  said 
Arthur  dryly.  "If  you  tell  Thorold  that  I  am  your 
cousin,  he  will  ask  a  good  many  other  questions — as 
to  whether  there  was  ever  any  love-making  between 
us,  for  one  thing.  Thorold's  a  fastidious  kind  of  man ; 
I  doubt  whether  the  marriage  will  ever  come  off  if 
he  gets  to  know  the  truth  of  our  relationship  to  each 
other  before  the  wedding  day." 

Esther's  face  turned  white.  "You  are  wicked  to 
say  such  things!"  she  broke  out  indignantly.  "Mr. 
Thorold  will  believe  what  I  tell  him." 

"And  what  I  tell  him,  too,"  said  her  cousin,  with 
a  look  that  was  almost  malignant.  Then  recovering 
himself,  he  went  on  more  pacifically:  "I  assure  you, 
Esther,  that  you  will  be  doing  a  very  foolish  thing 
if  you  enlighten  him  at  present.  Wait  at  any  rate  until 
we  have  left  the  place.  We  shall  not  be  here  long. 
You  promised  to  keep  the  secret,  and,  as  long  as  I  am 
working  for  Lady  Charlotte  Byng,  I  will  not  have  it 
told.  You  must  make  up  your  mind  for  silence  until 
my  work  at  Westhills  is  done." 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  89 


CHAPTER  VII. 
A   GOOD   MEMORY. 

Lady  Charlotte  had  no  cause  to  regret  even  the 
partial  confidence  that  she  had  reposed  in  Arthur  Elli- 
son. He  came  punctually,  did  his  work  carefully,  was 
quite  competent  for  all  that  she  wanted,  and  said  not 
a  word  about  the  papers  that  he  copied,  either  to  Es- 
ther or  to  anybody  else.  Of  course  he  was  quick  to 
see  that  his  work  touched  the  outside  fringe  only  of 
the  great  minister's  life;  still  less  was  he  allowed  any 
glimpse  of  the  scandals  that  were  reported  to  cling 
around  Lady  Muncaster's  memory ;  but  he  came  across 
gossip  enough,  and  incident  enough,  to  interest  him 
considerably,  and  he  could  not  but  acknowledge  that 
Lord  Belfield's  memoirs  would  probably  create  a  tre- 
mendous sensation  when  it  appeared  with  the  new 
century.  It  was  a  pity  that  none  of  it  could  be  pub- 
lished before  then. 

He  suggested  to  Lady  Charlotte  in  a  tentative  kind 
of  way,  that  there  would  be  no  breaking  of  Lord  Bel- 
field's  commands  if  she  compiled  a  volume  of  gossip 
and  anecdotes  from  her  grandfather's  memoirs,  with- 
out publishing  the  political  record  which  would  form 
the  weightier  matter  of  the  book.  But  Lady  Charlotte 
despised  the  suggestion.  "What!  Pick  out  the  plums 
and  leave  the  solid  pudding  till  1900?  Who  would 


90  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

read  the  book  then,  I  should  like  to  know?  No;  it 
shall  all  come  out  together,  or  not  at  all." 

Arthur  did  not  dare  to  shrug  his  shoulders,  but  he 
thought  her  a  very  unpractical  woman.  He  wished 
he  had  the  handling  of  these  memoirs;  he  could  make 
his  name  and  his  future  without  fail.  He  had  not  been 
three  days  at  work  before  he  had  realized  the  wealth  of 
piquant  information  which  lay  stored  in  Lady  Char- 
lotte's locked  cabinet. 

The  pity  of  it  was,  he  said  to  himself,  that  she  in- 
tended to  "edit"  the  memoirs  of  her  grandfather.  He 
knew  what  was  meant  by  a  woman's  editing.  Lady 
Charlotte  was  clever  and  large-minded,  but  not  entirely 
above  the  foibles  of  her  sex.  She  would  cut  out  the 
most  amusing  of  the  risque  stories;  she  would  omit 
the  witty  but  profane  expressions;  she  would  soften 
down  the  gallant  adventures  of  her  immediate  rela- 
tives. The  work  should  have  been  put  into  the  hands 
of  a  man! 

And  what  a  bore  it  was  to  think  that  it  could  not 
appear  until  the  year  1900!  By  that  time  he,  himself, 
would  probably  have  forgotten  the  stories  that  had 
been  left  out.  "And  it's  the  stories  that  are  left  out 
which  count,"  said  Arthur.  "If  only  I  remembered  all 
I  read,  I  am  pretty  sure  I  could  supplement  Lady  Char- 
lotte's book  admirably,  when  it  appears!  And,  by 
Jove,  why  shouldn't  I?" 

His  lip  curved  itself  into  a  curious  smile ;  he  stopped 
— for  he  was  walking  home  from  Westhills  when  the 
idea  occurred  to  him — and  gazed  at  the  distant  horizon 
with  an  abstracted  and  dreamy  air.  There  was  a  vague 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  91 

vision  before  him  of  infinite  possibilities,  of  a  world  in 
which  fortune  might  perhaps  be  ready  to  his  hand, 
if  only  he  had  the  wit  and  the  courage  to  seize  it. 

"I  believe,"  he  reflected,  "that  I  could  write  down 
all  that  I  have  read  and  copied  to-day.  A  memory 
like  mine  stands  one  in  good  stead  sometimes,  although 
it  is  not  a  tenacious  one."  And  this  was  true;  he 
was  able  to  report  with  very  fair  accuracy  long  pas- 
sages from  books  or  whole  columns  of  newspapers 
after  reading  them  once  or  twice;  and  although  he 
could  not  retain  for  long  what  he  had  thus  casually 
committed  to  memory,  he  had  often  found  the  faculty 
an  extremely  useful  one.  "If,"  he  went  on,  still  stand- 
ing with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  blue  distance,  "if  I 
were  to  chronicle  every  night  for  my  own  pleasure — 
of  course,  simply  for  my  own  pleasure — what  I  have 
read  during  the  day,  it  would  do  no  one  any  harm, 
and  it  would  give  me  the  satisfaction  in  after  yeart> 
of  checking  Lady  Charlotte's  anecdotes.  It  would  not 
injure  the  book;  and  it  would  not  be  telling  anybody, 
for  nobody  would  see  the  record;  and  it  would  save 
me  trouble  sometimes,  for  I  could  look  up  my  own 
notes  instead  of  referring  to  originals.  I'll  just  try 
it  to-night — just  to  see  whether  I  can  recollect  enough 
to  make  it  worth  my  while." 

He  hastened  home,  intent  on  the  new  idea,  which, 
as  he  rather  persistently  repeated  to  himself,  was  a 
perfectly  harmless  one.  And  it  was  only  for  an  experi- 
ment that  he  would  write  down  his  recollections  of  the 
day's  work. 

Esther  was  out.    He  shut  himself  into  his  own  room, 


92  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

sought  out  a  thick  note-book,  ink  and  pens,  and  set 
to  work.  After  a  moment's  pause,  he  wrote  on  the 
first  page,  in  a  neat  text-hand,  "To  be  burned  unread 
in  case  of  my  death,"  and  felt  almost  heroic  when  he 
had  written  it.  "Now,"  he  said,  "it  cannot  fall  into 
unauthorized  hands." 

He  wrote  for  a  couple  of  hours,  steadily.  When  he 
had  finished,  he  drew  a  long  breath,  and  laid  down 
his  pen  with  a  jubilant  air.  "I  had  no  idea  I  could 
remember  so  much,"  he  murmured.  "My  memory's 
better  than  ever;  by  Jove,  it  is!" 

He  had  written  down  almost  every  word  of  the  let- 
ters and  journal  of  which  he  had  that  morning  made 
a  transcript;  and  of  the  two  or  three  preceding  days' 
work,  he  had  made  a  very  full  resume.  It  was  a  feat 
of  memory  of  which  he  felt  proud.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  it — he  had  faculties  which  transcended 
those  of  other  men;  and  he  would  be  foolish  indeed 
not  to  make  use  of  them.  He  might  not  be  able  to 
publish  the  result  of  his  labor  or  to  make  money  by  it; 
but  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  think  that  he  could  do 
things  of  this  sort  if  he  chose.  How  tremendously 
aghast  Lady  Charlotte  would  be  if  she  knew  what  he 
had  written!  He  must  be  a  little  careful  about  letting 
her  find  out  that  he  possessed  this  somewhat  abnormal 
power  of  "memorizing"  what  he  read,  and  more  espe- 
cially what  he  wrote. 

He  had  turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  note-book 
with  great  pleasure.  There  was  nothing  of  profound 
significance,  of  course,  in  the  manuscript  that  Lady 
Charlotte  had  permitted  him  to  read;  but  there  was 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  93 

some  pleasant  gossip  about  the  Court,  some  perfectly 
new  anecdotes  of  people  in  power,  some  hints  of  a 
scandal,  the  nature  of  which  did  not  transpire.  Arthur 
began  to  feel  a  gnawing  desire  to  get  to  the  bottom 
of  the  story.  He  wondered  whether  he  could  piece 
it  out  from  the  fragments  which  it  was  evident  Lady 
Charlotte  meant  to  place  only  in  his  hands.  He  re- 
solved to  make  great  efforts  to  recommend  himself  to 
her,  and  to  do  his  work  for  her  so  excellently  and  yet 
with  so  little  apparent  curiosity,  that  she  would  not 
hesitate  to  let  him  see  even  the  most  important  and 
most  private  of  her  grandfather's  papers. 

In  pursuit  of  this  end,  he  labored  well.  Lady  Char- 
lotte praised  him  in  public,  and  reposed  more  and  more 
confidence  in  him.  He  was  very  exact,  very  quick, 
yet  very  reticent;  she  thought  him  rather  wanting  in 
knowledge  of  the  world,  however,  and  in  the  power 
of  putting  two  and  two  together.  She  found  him 
rather  peculiarly  simple,  she  said,  in  many  ways.  And 
she  came  to  rely  on  his  simplicity  more  than  she  had 
at  first  intended.  At  the  end  of  ten  days  or  so,  Arthur 
might  look  through  the  papers  as  much  as  he  pleased. 
Lady  Charlotte  would  even  leave  her  keys  upon  the 
table.  "There  was  no  need  to  take  such  precautions," 
she  said  once,  when  Mr.  Byng  uttered  a  few  words 
of  warning,  "Mr.  Ellison  was  a  gentleman."  And  for 
some  time,  indeed,  Arthur  rejected  the  thought  of 
using  the  keys  for  his  own  ends,  with  indignation. 
But  perhaps  Lady  Charlotte  would  not  have  consid- 
ered it  the  act  of  a  gentleman  to  write  down  every 


94  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

evening  all  that  he  had  learned  through  an  attentive 
study  of  the  Belfield  MSS. 

There  came  a  point  at  last  when  it  seemed  to  Arthur 
that  his  opportunities  were  coming  to  a  close,  and 
that  he  had  not  yet  solved  one  or  two  problems  which 
had  suggested  themselves  to  him  rather  early  in  his 
work.  It  had  not  been  proposed  that  his  engagement 
as  Lady  Charlotte's  secretary  should  continue  longer 
than  Esther's  engagement  as  coach ;  but  he  had  hoped 
to  make  himself  so  invaluable  that  he  would  l?e  asked 
to  go  on  with  his  work — perhaps  even  to  stay  in  the 
house!  Ah,  then  what  delightful  chances  he  would 
have  of  ransacking  the  old  cabinet  and  discovering 
all  the  family  secrets!  Not  that  he  wanted  to  make 
any  use  of  them;  but  he  had  a  natural  thirst,  he  said 
to  himself,  for  information.  And  he  had  early  got  upon 
the  track  of  what  seemed  to  him  an  important  (and 
possibly  scandalous)  family  secret;  ignorance  of  it  left 
several  passages  in  Lord  Belfield's  letters  inexplica- 
ble, and  Arthur  felt  that  he  must  at  all  hazards  secure 
the  clew. 

He  seized  his  opportunity  one  morning  when  Lady 
Charlotte  had  been  called  away  to  London  for  the 
day.  She  had  left  him  plenty  of  work  to  do,  and  told 
him  that  he  would  be  undisturbed.  Lisa  accompanied 
her  to  London,  and  Mr.  Byng  was  confined  to  his 
own  room  by  an  attack  of  sciatica.  He  was  quite 
alone.  It  would  be  untrue  to  say  that  he  had  no 
scruples  of  conscience.  He  felt  very  uncomfortable 
when  he  thought  of  what  he  was  about  to  do.  Once 
or  twice  he  almost  resolved  not  to  pry  further  into 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  96 

Lady  Charlotte's  affairs.  Then  came  the  remembrance 
of  his  incomplete  note-book,  and  the  incompleteness 
appealed  to  him  as  it  can  only  do  to  the  professed 
literary  man.  He  really  could  not  bear  to  feel  that 
it  was  incomplete.  The  key  was  in  his  hand,  and 
although  his  cheeks  burned  and  his  fingers  trembled, 
he  turned  it  in  the  lock  and  opened  Lady  Charlotte's 
private  drawer. 

Perhaps  she  had  not  been  so  careless  as  she  seemed. 
Some  of  the  papers  which  Arthur  most  wanted  to  see 
were  hidden  away  in  a  secret  drawer  which  he  could 
not  open.  He  tried  diligently  to  discover  the  spring 
or  sliding  panel,  which  he  felt  sure  must  be  in  exist- 
ence, but  his  efforts  were  utterly  unsuccessful.  But 
he  did  come  upon  one  paper,  which  Lady  Charlotte 
certainly  never  meant  him  to  see:  a  letter  to  Lord 
Belfield  from  his  daughter  Lady  Muncaster,  which 
contained  the  key  to  the  mystery  that  had  baffled 
Arthur  Ellison  so  long. 

He  read  and  re-read  the  letter  with  gathering  stu- 
pefaction. It  threw  a  new  light  on  the  family  his- 
tory altogether,  and  yet  it  was  a  secret  that  had  never 
seen  the  light  of  day.  Arthur  knew  well  enough  that 
there  were  plenty  of  stories  connected  with  old  fam- 
ilies which  were  sensational  or  tragical  enough;  yet 
here  was  one  which  nobody  had  suspected,  and  whic1! 
would  not  perhaps  have  much  effect  upon  the  public 
mind  so  long  after  its  occurrence ;  yet  which,  if  known, 
might  have  changed  the  fortunes  of  Lord  Belfield's 
family  completely. 

Lord  Belfield  had  been  twice  married,  first  to  a 


96  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

Miss  Anketel,  who  had  run  away  from  him  and  been 
drowned  at  sea;  secondly  to  the  Honorable  Maria 
De  Vaux,  who  had  become  the  mother  of  the  cele- 
brated Amelia,  Marchioness  of  Muncaster,  whose 
daughters  had  been  respectively  the  wives  of  Howard 
Byng  and  William  Daubeny.  It  seemed  from  the 
letter  which  Arthur  held  in  his  hand,  that  after  the 
second  Lady  Belfield's  death  and  the  Lady  Amelia's 
marriage  to  the  Marquis,  a  story  had  got  wind  that 
the  first  Lady  Belfield  was  not  drowned  at  all,  but 
was  still  living  in  America,  the  reputed  wife  of  a  Cali- 
fornian  gold-digger.  As  she  had  not  been  divorced, 
owing  to  the  rumors  of  her  death,  the  marriage  with 
Lord  Belfield  would  of  course  still  hold  good,  and 
the  second  marriage  be  invalid.  Lady  Muncaster 
wrote  in  great  haste  and  indignation  to  her  father, 
asking  if  the  story  were  true,  and  stating  that  her 
husband  with  whom  she  lived  unhappily,  had  already 
taunted  her  with  the  stain  upon  her  birth. 

Arthur  devoured  the  lines  eagerly.  But  where  was 
Lord  Belfield's  answer?  It  would  be  interesting  to 
see  what  he  said  in  reply.  A  hurried  search  among 
the  remaining  papers  convinced  him  that  the  letter 
was  not  there.  It  was  probably  among  the  papers 
which  Lady  Charlotte  kept  locked  in  her  private  draw- 
er. Arthur  swore  a  little  under  his  breath,  for  he 
was  growing  desperately  angry,  when  he  realized  that 
there  was  probably  no  way  of  possessing  himself  of 
these  papers,  and  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  leave 
Westhills  without  establishing  the  fact,  as  he  rather 
thirsted  to  do,  of  Lady  Muncaster's  illegitimacy. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  97 

He  had  no  ill-will  to  Lady  Muncaster,  but  he  had 
a  curious  taste  for  garbage,  for  unsavory  scandals  of 
all  sorts.  It  comforted  him  for  his  own  obscurity  to 
know  that  persons  of  noble  birth  were  sometimes,  if 
not  generally,  unworthy  of  respect.  And  for  a  few 
moments  he  positively  chuckled  with  delight  at  the 
picture  of  Lady  Charlotte's  mortification  and  horror 
if  this  blot  upon  the  family  escutcheon  were  made 
known  to  the  world.  Even  although  it  affected  her 
mother  and  not  herself,  Arthur  knew  that  publicity 
would  pain  her  greatly;  for  she  had  never  scrupled 
to  show  her  pride  in  being  the  daughter  of  Lady  Mun- 
caster. He  felt  that  his  old  quarrel  with  the  world 
might  be  avenged  if  he  could  bring  the  blush  of  shame 
to  Lady  Charlotte's  haughty  brows.  There  was  no  real 
shame  in  the  matter,  for  Lord  Belfield  had  married 
again  in  ignorance  of  the  first  wife's  continued  exist- 
ence; but  there  was  a  sort  of  technical  shame  which 
Arthur  was  certain  that  Lady  Charlotte  would  espe- 
cially dislike. 

But  there  was  no  use  in  thinking  of  it.  He  ac- 
knowledged as  much,  regretfully,  while  he  replaced 
the  paper  and  locked  up  the  cabinet.  He  must  not 
quarrel  with  Lady  Charlotte,  and  he  must  not  betray 
the  family  secrets  to  the  world,  if  he  meant  to  win 
Lisa  Daubeny's  hand.  He  wondered  whether  he  could 
not  use  his  knowledge  as  a  method  of  bending  the 
Byngs  to  his  will  when  the  time  came  to  avow  his 
passion  for  Lisa.  A  strong  man,  he  imagined,  would 
threaten  Lady  Charlotte,  and  force  her  to  'submit  to 
his  will.  But  he  did  not  think  he  was  strong  enough 


98  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

for  that.  Lady  Charlotte  always  cowed  him  a  little 
in  spite  of  himself.  No,  artifice  and  cunning  must 
be  his  weapons;  or  rather,  as  he  called  them,  ingenu- 
ity and  intellect.  With  these  he  would  win  the  day. 

A  step  at  the  door,  a  rattle  of  the  handle,  made  him 
start.  He  had  not  yet  quite  finished  his  work  of  shut- 
ting the  drawers  and  locking  the  cabinet,  and  he  had 
to  turn  back  to  the  table  with  an  uncomfortable  sus- 
picion that  one  or  two  papers  had  not  been  restored 
to  their  proper  places.  One  indeed  had  actually  fallen 
to  the  ground.  He  had  time  only  to  pick  it  up  and 
thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  when  the  door  was  opened 
and — and  of  all  people  in  the  world — Lisa  came  in. 
She  was  flushed  but  smiling,  and  Arthur  involuntarily 
flushed  also.  If  she  had  come  upon  the  scene  a  mo- 
ment earlier,  what  could  he  have  said  or  done?  Only 
she  was  so  innocent-minded  that  it  would  have  been 
easy  to  throw  dust  in  her  eyes. 

"Why,  I  thought  you  were  in  London  by  this  time !" 
exclaimed  Arthur,  in  amaze. 

"We  ought  to  be.  There  was  a  railway  accident  on 
the  line,  and  Aunt  Charlotte  would  not  go  on.  So 
we  came  back  to  surprise  you  at  your  work." 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  been  rather  idle,"  said  Arthur. 
"I  had  a  headache  this  morning,  and  have  been  taking 
my  time,  thinking  I  should  be  able  to  work  late  as 
Lady  Charlotfe  was  out." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  glad  to  see  us  back 
again?'' 

"Don't  you  know  that  I  am  always  glad  to  see  you?" 

He  had  adopted  this  tone  with  her  several  times 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  99 

of  late,  at  first  timidly,  latterly  with  more  boldness 
and  ardor.  After  his  recent  discovery  of  a  family  se- 
cret, he  felt  more  than  usually  bold.  And  Lisa  had 
never  seemed  displeased  by  his  advances. 

She  looked  very  lovely  as  she  stood  beside  the 
library  table,  dressed  in  a  jacket  and  skirt  of  soft 
gray  cloth,  with  silver  buttons,  and  a  little  soft  gray 
fur-chinchilla,  he  thought,  around  the  neck  and  throat, 
and  a  gray  hat  with  gray  and  white  feathers  and  silver 
buckles  to  match  the  dress.  The  gray  suited  her  fair 
complexion  and  bright  hair  admiiably,  and  there  was 
a  joyous  light  in  her  soft  eyes. 

"Always?"  she  asked.  There  was  a  happy  playful- 
ness in  her  tone. 

"Always,"  he  re-echoed  fervently.  "And  there  will 
never  be  a  moment  of  my  life  when  I  feel  differ- 
ently." 

"One  cannot  answer  for  all  one's  future  life,"  said 
Lisa,  shaking  her  head  and  beginning  to  draw  off  her 
gray  gloves. 

"I  can." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Ellison,  Aunt  Charlotte  always  says  that 
you  are  remarkable.'' 

"Is  it  so  very  remarkable  to  know  when  one  has 
seen  the  most  perfect  woman  in  the  world?" 

She  drew  back  a  little,  and  the  smile  flitted  from 
her  face.  Arthur  saw  the  change,  and  was  alarmed. 
Had  he  gone  too  far? 

"For  heaven's  sake,  don't  be  angry  with  me!"  he 
said,  in  a  voice  rendered  tremulous  by  the  agitation 
of  his  nerve  rather  than  by  his  love  for  her — genuine 


100  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

although  he  considered  this  to  be — "I  would  not  offend 
you  for  the  world.  Indeed  I  would  not." 

"I  am  not  offended,"  said  Lisa,  drooping  a  little  as 
he  again  drew  near. 

"Mayn't  I  tell  you  then  that  I  think  you — perfect?'' 

"No  one  is  perfect,  Mr.  Ellison.'' 

"A  woman  is  perfect  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  who 
loves  her,"  said  Arthur,  in  a  low  voice.  Then  as  she 
did  not  answer,  he  pressed  the  point.  "Don't  you 
think  so?  Has  no  one  told  you  so  before?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  think  it  would  be  rather  foolish 
to  say  so,"  faltered  Lisa,  beginning  not  to  know  what 
she  said. 

"I  shall  have  to  go  away  very  soon,  and  I  want 
you  to  know  what  I  think  of  you,"  Arthur  whispered. 
He  was  already  shaken  up  by  the  sharp  fear  of  detec- 
tion that  had  rushed  over  him  when  he  had  heard  Lisa 
at  the  door;  and  the  rapidly  rising  tide  of  passion 
swept  away  all  the  weak  barriers  of  will  that  caution 
and  duty  had  erected  between  himself  and  Lisa.  He 
couldn't  control  himself  any  longer;  he  was  obliged 
to  speak.  "I  love  you,  Lisa;  I  love  you,  I  love  you," 
he  stammered,  not  able  to  think  of  any  other  words. 
"Lisa— darling!" 

It  was  plain  that  she  could  not  speak.  Her  eyes 
were  swimming  in  tears,  but  still  she  was  not  dis- 
pleased. She  was  not  going  to  send  him  away.  There 
was  a  smile  upon  her  lips. 

"Lisa,  darling,  you  love  me.  Let  me — let  me  kiss 
you — just  once,  and  then  I  shall  feel  sure,"  he  said, 
scarcely  believing  in  his  own  good  fortune,  but  sure 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  101 

that  she  would  not  let  him  press  his  lips  to  hers  unless 
she  loved  him  in  return. 

It  was  true  then?  He  had  kissed  her  passionately 
many  times ;  he  lost  all  sense  of  prudence,  as  he  stood 
with  his  arms  around  her,  his  face  bent  close  to  hers. 
He  had  forgotten  that  at  any  moment  an  interruption 
might  occur. 

"Good  Lord!"  said  a  voice  from  the  doorway  that 
caused  the  lovers  to  start  apart  hurriedly.  "May  I 
ask  what  this  means,  young  people?" 

And  Lady  Charlotte  marched  into  the  room. 


102  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
LADY    CHARLOTTE    INTERVENES. 

Lady  Charlotte's  handsome  brows  were  particularly 
stormy,  and  if  the  dark  lightnings  of  her  eye  could 
have  struck  Arthur  with  instant  death,  she  would  prob- 
ably not  have  been  unwilling  that  they  should  do  so. 
She  was  still  dressed  in  her  London  panoply — the 
fashionable  bonnet,  the  perfectly  hung  dress,  the  hand- 
some velvet  mantle,  which  to  Arthur's  eyes  always 
conferred  new  dignity  upon  her.  He  was  not  the  man 
to  see  dignity  in  undress.  Yet  he  vaguely  felt  that 
he  would  have  been  able  to  meet  Lady  Charlotte  on 
more  equal  terms  if  she  had  worn  the  rough  tweed  and 
gaiters  of  her  ordinary  morning  wear,  or  the  loose 
artistic  tea-gown  of  her  afternoon. 

He  had  instinctively  quitted  his  hold  upon  Lisa 
when  he  heard  Lady  Charlotte's  voice,  but  he  had 
manliness  enough  to  put  his  hand  upon  hers  and  draw 
her  forward,  as  he  said,  with  apparent  calm: 

"I  love  your  niece,  Lady  Charlotte,  and  she  is  good 
enough  to  reciprocate  my  affection." 

"Reciprocate  your  fiddlesticks!"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte rudely.  But  she  sat  down  suddenly,  as  if  she 
had  received  a  blow,  and  her  lips  turned  a  little  pale. 
After  a  moment's  pause,  however,  she  turned  to  Lisa 
with  an  air  of  indulgent  ridicule.  "You  silly  child, 
what  nonsense!  Run  away  just  now  and  leave  me  to 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  103 

talk  over  the  matter  with  Mr.  Ellison.  I  can  speak 
to  you  later." 

Lisa  lingered,  her  hand  in  Arthur's  still.  Her  eyes 
were  bright,  her  cheeks  flushed,  she,  usually  so  timid, 
did  not,  to  Arthur's  astonishment,  look  afraid.  "Aunt 
Charlotte,  you  will  listen  to  him?  You  will  remember 
that  I — I  care  for  him?"  she  said. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will  listen  to  him;  I  will  remember 
what  you  say,"  answered  Lady  Charlotte,  with  a  sort 
of  ominous  calm,  rather  belied  by  the  fiery  gleam  of 
her  eyes.  "You  had  better  go  now ;  young  ladies  are 
not  usually  present  at  these  interviews." 

"But  this  is  an  exceptional  one,"  Lisa  pleaded. 
"May  I  not " 

She  could  not  continue  her  entreaties,  for  Lady 
Charlotte  rose,  splendid  and  terrible,  with  the  light- 
ning and  thunder  of  her  eyes  and  brows,  as  she 
pointed  with  her  finger  to  the  library  door,  and  said 
succinctly:  "Go!" 

And  Lisa  went.  She  would  have  been  bold  indeed 
if  she  could  have  defied  the  nower  of  that  majestic 
monosyllable.  She  pressed  Arthur's  hand  before  re- 
linquishing, gave  him  a  lovely  smile,  and  departed, 
while  Arthur  hurried  forward  to  open  the  door  for 
her  with  all  possible  grace  and  courtesy  of  manner — 
eager  indeed  for  a  moment's  breathing-space  in  which 
to  recover  his  self-possession  before  turning  to  en- 
counter his  formidable  opponent.  For  he  felt  that 
she  was  only  waiting  for  Lisa's  departure  to  let  the 
storm  break  upon  his  head. 

He  turned  back,  leisurely  enough,  with  his  hands 


104  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

thrust  into  the  pockets  of  his  loose  velvet  coat;  his 
face  pale,  a  touch  of  insolence  in  his  bearing  and  in 
his  cool  blue  eyes.  In  thinking  of  him  afterwards, 
Lady  Charlotte  acknowledged  that  she  had  never  seen 
him  look  so  well.  The  independence  of  his  bearing 
was  just  the  kind  of  thing  that  she  could  appreciate, 
although  at  the  moment  it  incensed  her  beyond  meas- 
ure. As  he  had  expected,  she  dropped  all  pretense 
of  civility  when  Lisa  had  left  the  room. 

"Now,  sir,  will  you  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  this 
dishonorable  conduct?"  she  said,  in  tones  which  ad- 
mitted of  no  doubt  as  to  her  opinions. 

"I  deny  that  it  is  dishonorable  in  any  way  for  me 
to  pay  my  addresses  to  Miss  Daubeny,"  said  Arthur 
hardily. 

"Pay  your  addresses!  Is  it  paying  your  addresses 
to  make  love  secretly  to  the  daughter  of  the  house 
in  which  you  have  been  admitted  on  the  footing  of 
a  friend?  Or,  to  put  it  another  way,  is  it  considered 
honorable  in  an  employe  to  win  the  affections  of  his 
employer's  niece  or  daughter?" 

"It  has  been  done  before,"  said  Arthur,  with  an  ex- 
asperating smile. 

"It  has  been  done  before,  but  not  by  gentlemen," 
said  Lady  Charlotte.  "And  I  had  the  impression,  to 
begin  with,  that  you  were  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Ellison. 
I  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  have  to  alter  my  opinion." 

Her  voice  was  not  passionate  any  longer,  but  cold 
and  cutting.  Her  nostrils  worked  slightly,  and  her  fine 
lips  and  brows  expressed  a  lofty  disdain.  Arthur 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  105 

bowed  and  answered  with  such  exaggerated  politeness 
that  it  seemed  ironical. 

"I  must  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon  if  through  my 
ignorance  of  the  laws  of  society  I  have  erred,  in  se- 
curing the  affection  of  the  niece  before  I  applied  for 
the  permission  of  her  guardians,"  he  said.  "But  see- 
ing that  the  error  has  been  committed,  may  I  now  ask 
your  sanction  to  an  engagement  between  Miss  Dau- 
beny  and  myself?" 

"Of  course  you  know  that  is  absolutely  out  of  the 
question,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  with  great  composure. 

"Even  if  Lisa  loves  me " 

"Lisa  love  you!  Pray,  how  long  has  this  nonsense 
been  going  on?" 

"I  have  loved  her  ever  since  I  saw  her!  It  is  sober 
earnest,  Lady  Charlotte;  there  is  no  'nonsense'  about 
the  matter.  I  shall  love  her  to  my  dying  day." 

"Love  her  by  all  means!  There  is  nothing  to  pre- 
vent you,"  said  Lady  Charlotte  with  curling  lip;  "but 
what  I  mean  is,  when  did  you  speak  to  her  first?" 

Arthur  hesitated.  He  wished  he  could  say  that  he 
had  spoken  before  that  morning.  From  the  point  of 
view  of  honor  and  honesty,  it  was  of  course  better  that 
he  should  not  have  spoken  earlier;  but  this  point  was 
not  always  the  first  that  presented  itself  to  Arthur  Elli- 
son. It  would  have  given  him  keen  pleasure  at  that 
moment  to  pain  and  vex  Lady  Charlotte  by  saying 
that  he  had  declared  himself  to  Lisa  several  days  before. 
But  he  reflected  that  Lisa  could  contradict  this  state- 
ment, if  it  were  made;  so  he  contented  himself  with 
saying: 


106  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"I  have  not  tried  to  hide  my  feelings  toward  her, 
but  I  have  not  perhaps  made  them  quite  clear  to  her 
until  to-day." 

"Oh,  then  there's  not  so  much  harm  done,"  said 
Lady  Charlotte,  with  sudden  briskness.  "If  she  has  a 
fancy  for  you,  it  will  soon  die  out,  and  when  once  you 
have  left  Westhills,  we  shall  hear  no  more  of  the  mat- 
ter. You  have  mistaken  my  niece's  character  entirely, 
Mr.  Ellison,  if  you  think  that  she  would  have  lent  her- 
self to  any  underhand  behavior  or  to  clandestine  cor- 
respondence." 

"You  have  scarcely  given  us  time  to  show  what  we 
were  going  to  do,  Lady  Charlotte/'  said  Arthur,  in 
an  exceedingly  injured  voice,  "I  assure  you  that  I 
should  have  come  to  you  at  once.  I  spoke  to  her 
only  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment — only  because  I 
could  not  keep  silence  any  longer " 

"Then  it  is  very  fortunate  that  I  came  in  just  then," 
said  Lady  Charlotte  dryly.  "I  can  certainly  not  employ 
a  secretary  who  cannot  control  his  feelings.  You 
know  very  well,  Mr.  Ellison,  that  you  ought  not  to 
have  spoken  a  word  to  Lisa  without  consulting  me 
first.  You  did  not  consult  me  simply  because  you 
knew  perfectly  well  what  my  answer  would  be.  In 
the  case  of  an  equal,  it  would  be  different.  I  could 
understand  that  a  man  perfectly  suitable  in  fortune  and 
position  might  take  our  consent  a  little  for  granted, 
and  try  to  win  Lisa's  heart  without  asking  for  her 
formally;  but  with  you — you  must  see  that  the  case 
is  different." 

"You  said  just  now  that  I  was  a  gentleman,"  said 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  107 

Arthur.  "Penniless  gentlemen  before  now  have  as- 
pired to  the  hand  of  women  much  more  highly  placed 
than  themselves." 

Lady  Charlotte  uttered  a  short,  harsh  laugh.  "I'm 
afraid  I  used  the  word  gentleman  in  a  very  conven- 
tional sense,"  she  said.  "Everyone's  a  gentleman  now. 
What  claims  to  gentility  in  the  real  sense  have  you? 
Who  was  your  father?" 

Arthur  turned  red  and  white  by  turns.  "My  father 
— he  was " 

"A  schoolmaster  in  a  little  country  town.  I've 
heard  that  from  your  sister.  She  at  least  makes  no 
pretension  to  be  what  she  is  not.  He  was  a  good  man, 
I  am  sure,  and  an  intellectual  man,  but  I  am  unable 
to  see  that  he  gives  you  any  claim  to  marry  Lady 
Muncaster  and  the  great-granddaughter  of  the  Earl 
of  Belfield.  I  am  not  a  snob,"  Lady  Charlotte  went 
on  hastily,  "and  I  don't  say  that  you  might  not  make 
her  as  good  a  husband  as  many  a  man  of  higher  rank; 
but  it  is  as  plain  as  a  pike-staff  that  you  are  not  a 
suitable  match  for  her.  You  force  me  to  say  things 
that  I  don't  like  to  say,  Mr.  Ellison.  You  have  been 
to  neither  a  public  school  nor  a  university.  You  have 
no  profession;  you  live  from  hand  to  mouth  by  doing 
hack-work  for  newspapers;  is  it  possible  that  you 
consider  yourself  a  fitting  husband  for  Lisa*  Daubeny, 
who  not  only  comes  of  a  noble  family  but  has  been 
used  to  every  indulgence  and  every  luxury  that  wealth 
and  position  and  strong  family  affection  can  give?" 

"If  I  were  rich,  I  suppose  that  you  would  forget 
my  other  drawbacks,"  said  Arthur,  a  little  bitterly. 


108  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"Well,  it  is  better  to  be  frank;  I  suppose  I  should. 
If  you  were  a  millionaire,  I  suppose  we  should  not 
scrutinize  your  family  tree  too  closely.  It  sounds  bru- 
tal to  say  so,  but  in  these  modern  days,  it  is  absolutely 
true.  And  so — as  I  don't  see  much  prospect  of  your 
becoming  a  millionaire — I  think  it  would  be  advisable 
for  you  to  take  this  afternoon's  train  for  London,  and 
make  up  your  mind  not  to  see  Lisa  any  more." 

"You  delight  in  putting  things  cruelly,  I  think,  Lady 
Charlotte,"  said  Arthur,  with  quivering  lips.  He  was 
so  thoroughly  pained  and  overwhelmed  that  Lady 
Charlotte  smoothed  her  brows  and  looked  at  him 
pityingly. 

"I  don't  delight  in  anything  of  the  kind,"  she  said, 
"and  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  have  illowed  your  heart 
to  get  the  better  of  your  head,  Mr.  Ellison,  more  espe- 
cially as  you  have  been  very  useful  to  me  in  several 
ways;  but  you  should  have  remembered  in  entering 
this  house  that  you  were  received  here  with  perfect 
trust  and  confidence,  and  should  have  been  very  care- 
ful not  to  abuse  it." 

"I  had  forgotten  the  claims  of  rank,"  said  Arthur, 
speaking  more  savagely  than  he  knew.  His  evil  tem- 
per was  getting  the  upper  hand  of  him  again.  "I  ought 
to  have  remembered,  as  you  say,  the  position  of  Lady 
Muncaster — and  her  legal  status — before  I  made  love 
to  her  granddaughter." 

He  regretted  the  words  before  they  were  well  out 
of  his  mouth,  but  it  flashed  across  his  mind  that  if  the 
story  recorded  in  Lady  Muncaster's  letter  to  her  father 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  109 

were  untrue,  his  shaft  would  fall  unheeded  to  the 
ground. 

Lady  Charlotte  flashed  a  sudden,  keen,  questioning 
glance  at  him,  and  changed  color  a  little.  Then  she 
sat  perfectly  still,  as  if  considering  something.  Ar- 
thur's heart  beat  fast;  he  knew  now  what  he  had  done. 
He  had  taunted  Lady  Charlotte  with  the  slur  upon 
her  mother's  name.  Would  she  ever  forgive  him.'' 
Or  would  she  try  to  conciliate  him,  and  make  terms, 
so  that  he  should  not  give  the  story  to  the  world? 

He  had  not  long  to  wait. 

"It  appears  to  me,  Mr.  Ellison,"  she  said  at  length 
in  the  quietest  of  tones,  "that  you  have  been  prying 
into  things  with  which  you  have  no  business.  By 
the  bye,  do  I  not  see  my  key  hanging  from  the  lock  of 
the  cabinet?  And  by  what  authority  have  you  dared 
to  use  that  key,  which  was  left  in  this  room  on  the 
presumption  that  you  were,  as  you  told  me  just  now, 
a  gentleman?" 

The  gathering  scorn  in  her  voice  crushed  the  lis- 
tener. He  stammered  out  some  sort  of  excuse  or 
denial,  but  Lady  Charlotte  took  no  notice.  She  walked, 
with  a  firm  and  stately  step,  to  the  escritoire,  opened 
it,  and  tried  one  or  two  of  the  small  inner  drawers. 
One  was  open  a  little  way,  and  the  paper  had  evi- 
dently been  disturbed.  Lady  Charlotte  pointed  to  it, 
and  turned  her  proud  face,  with  a  sarcastic  smile, 
towards  her  whilom  secretary. 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  gave  you  permission  to 
look  at  those  papers,"  she  said.  "And  i-f  you  have 
seen  them,  I  really  do  not  know  what  good  they  can 


110  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

do  you  or  what  harm  they  can  do  to  us.  But  I  think 
it  settles  the  question  as  to  the  propriety  of  your  pro- 
posing for  Lisa.  Her  future  husband  must  at  least 
be  an  honorable  man." 

"I  have  looked  at  nothing — I  know  nothing  of  your 
affairs,"  said  Arthur  angrily.  "It  is  common  re- 
port  " 

She  looked  at  him  full  in  the  face.  "Oh,  no,  indeed 
it  is  not,"  she  said.  "You  have  been  quite — misin- 
formed." 

She  smiled  contemptuously.  "It  is  not  worth  dis- 
cussion. All  that  remains  for  me  to  do  is  to  write 
you  a  check  for  your  services,  Mr.  Ellison,  and  express 
my  regret  that  our  connection  is  come  to  such  a  dis- 
astrous end.  I  should  advise  you  to  return  to  London 
as  soon  as  possible.  I  think  your  talents  would  be 
more  appreciated  there  than  in  this  quiet  country 
place." 

He  writhed  under  the  lash  of  her  tongue,  but  he 
could  not  reply.  Her  scorn  took  away  the  very  power 
of  speech.  He  looked  on  helplessly  while  she  sat 
down  at  the  open  desk,  deliberately  drew  out  a  check- 
book, and  wrote  a  check,  payable  to  his  order.  He 
could  see  by  the  turn  of  her  pen  that  it  was  a  very 
handsome  check:  fifty  pounds,  apparently,  although 
he  had  hitherto  been  paid  by  the  week — ten  guineas 
a  week,  which  was  an  altogether  ridiculously  high  sum 
and  had  been  given  by  the  Byngs  only  as  a  way  of 
showing  kindness.  The  fifty  was  evidently  meant  in 
lieu  of  notice. 

Arthur  debated  within  himself  as  to  whether  he 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  Ill 

should  take  it.  The  high-spirited  thing  to  do  was  to 
tear  it  in  twain,  and  walk  out  of  the  house  penniless; 
but — penury  had  grown  more  than  ever  distasteful  to 
him.  He  had  thrown  up  his  regular  work  in  London; 
he  had  nothing  laid  by,  and  he  was  in  debt;  he  would 
have  to  borrow  of  Esther  and  look  for  something  to 
do,  living,  meanwhile,  in  those  mean  little  London 
rooms  which  he  hated  with  such  intolerable  hatred. 
He  could  not  do  without  Lady  Charlotte's  fifty  pounds, 
even  if  it  were  flung  to  him  as  a  bone  is  flung  to  a 
dog. 

She  inclosed  it  in  an  envelope,  and  laid  it  before  him 
on  the  library  table  with  a  queenly  air  of  dismissal. 
"I  think  you  will  find  that  all  right,  Mr.  Ellison," 
she  said  with  a  carelessness  that  was  almost  cheerful, 
"and  I  wish  you  a  very  good-morning." 

"You  will  hear  of  me  again,"  said  Arthur,  as  he 
sullenly  pocketed  the  envelope. 

"In  the  newspapers,  perhaps,"  returned  Lady  Char- 
lotte, with  significance. 

"I  mean,  Lady  Charlotte,  that  I  shall  not  give  up 
my  hopes  of  winning  your  niece's  hand." 

Lady  Charlotte's  bow  and  smile  were  absolutely 
exasperating,  in  that  they  were  unconcerned. 

"Lisa  used  to  be  fastidious,"  she  said,  standing  by 
the  table,  and  drawing  towards  her  the  manuscripts 
upon  which  Arthur  had  been  engaged.  "I  do  not 
suppose  that  she  has  entirely  lost  her  power  of  dis- 
tinguishing between  right  and  wrong." 

"You  send  me  out  of  the  house  without  allowing 
me  to  see  her  again?'' 


112  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Certainly.    Why  should  she  see  you?'' 

Arthur  flushed  hotly.  "You  are  a  hard  woman, 
Lady  Charlotte,  but  you  may  one  day  regret  your 
hardness,"  he  said. 

"Is  that  meant  for  a  threat?"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
with  a  curiously  inscrutable  face. 

"You  can  take  it  as  one  if  you  like.  If  I  can  win 
Lisa,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  I  shall  do  it." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you  for  the  warning,  Mr.  Ellison. 
I  do  not  know  whether  it  will  be  of  any  interest  to 
you  to  learn  that  if  Lisa  marries  without  my  consent, 
she  does  not  receive  one  penny  of  the  dowry  that  we 
intended  to  settle  upon  her.  She  has  nothing  of  her 
own,  and  is  entirely  dependent  upon  us." 

"That,"  said  Arthur  grandly,  "is  a  matter  of  no  mo- 
ment to  me.'' 

He  walked  towards  the  door,  Lady  Charlotte  watch- 
ing him  with  her  inscrutable  face.  "Good-morning, 
Lady  Charlotte,"  he  said,  with  punctilious  politeness. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Ellison.  I  hope  you  will  some 
day  find  out  the  advantages  of  honorable  and  straight- 
forward dealing.  You  should  take  a  lesson  from  your 
sister." 

Arthur  turned  around  sharply.  The  last  remark 
was  one  that  he  could  not  bear.  No  motive  of  pru- 
dence withheld  him,  for  he  knew  that  he  had  offended 
Lady  Charlotte  beyond  redemption,  and  what  he  said 
or  did  was  of  little  consequence  now.  He  would  fire 
his  last  shot  and  reduce  Esther  from  her  high  position 
of  trust  to  the  same  level  as  himself. 

"My  sister!"  he  said,  with  an  unpleasant  laugh;  "as 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  113 

you  disapprove  of  me  so  highly,  you  may  be  pleased 
to  hear  that  Esther  is  not  my  sister  at  all." 

"Eh?"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  with  a  frown.  "What  is 
that?  Not  your  sister!  She  told  me  so.'' 

"I  don't  think  she  ever  committed  herself  to  the 
statement.  She  let  it  pass — that  was  all.  Esther  is 
my  cousin,  and  we  have  always  been  very  fond  of 
one  another;  I  thought  at  the  time  that  she  did  me 
a  good  turn  when  she  let  me  pass  as  her  brother. 
We  were  once  going  to  be  married,  but  we  thought 
better  of  that  arrangement." 

Lady  Charlotte  was  not  easily  shocked;  but  she 
was  shocked — inexpressibly  shocked  on  this  occasion. 
"I  cannot  believe  it,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  believe  it. 
Surely — are  you  lying,  or  are  you  mad,  Mr.  Ellison? 
I  would  have  trusted  Esther  as  I  would  myself." 

"I  will  let  her  make  her  own  apologies,"  said  Arthur 
with  a  smile  that  was  singularly  distasteful  to  Lady 
Charlotte.  "I  do  not  suppose  that  she  will  deny  it 
when  she  finds  that  I  have  been  beforehand  with 
her." 

If  Lady  Charlotte  had  not  been  startled  out  of  her 
usual  calm,  she  would  have  seen  Mr.  Arthur  Ellison 
off  the  premises,  without  letting  him  have  the  chance 
of  meeting  Lisa  again.  But  his  intelligence  so  far 
amazed  her  that  she  sat  down  to  consider  what  Esther 
had  said  and  done  when  Arthur  first  came  to  West- 
hills,  and  to  remember  that  they  had  all  agreed  that 
her  brother's  coming  seemed  to  be  no  matter  of  pleas- 
ure with  her.  And  by  the  time  she  had  recovered  a 
little  from  the  shock  the  lovers  had  had  time  for  a  hasty 


114  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

meeting,  and  a  good  deal  of  mischief  had  been  done. 

Lisa  met  Arthur  at  the  door  of  a  little  morning- 
room,  and  drew  him  at  once  inside.  "What  did  she 
say?  How  did  she  take  it?  Was  she  very  angry?" 

"Ah,  my  poor  Lisa,"  said  the  young  man  with  a 
sigh,  as  he  held  her  two  hands  and  looked  into  her 
eyes;  "it  is  all  over.  We  are  never  to  meet  again." 

Her  pretty  face  whitened;  her  eyes  grew  large  with 
tears.  "Arthur,  then — do  you  mean  to  give  me  up?" 
she  said  wistfully. 

"My  darling,  I  shall  never  cease  to  love  you,  but 
I  dare  not  ask  you  to  bind  yourself — it  would  be  too 
hard  for  you." 

"Nothing  would  be  too  hard." 

"Will  you  be  true  to  me,  Lisa?" 

"Always — always.    Arthur,  I  shall  see  you  again?" 

"If  we  are  true  to  one  another,  dearest,  I  am  sure 
we  shall.  You  may  be  able  to  win  the  day  for  both 
of  us,  if  they  see  that  you  are  determined  to  be  true. 
WTill  you  promise  me,  Lisa — promise  yourself  to  me?" 

"I  promise,"  she  murmured,  in  a  frightened  voice 
and  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  But  there  was  reso- 
lution in  her  face. 

They  kissed  and  parted;  and  for  a  time,  Arthur, 
who  was  really  in  love  with  her,  forgot  his  wrath 
against  Lady  Charlotte  and  the  humiliations  to  which 
he  had  been  subjected,  in  his  fond  thoughts  of  Lisa's 
tenderness.  It  was  only  when  he  reached  the  farm- 
house and  began  to  unfold,  partially  and  by  degrees, 
to  Esther  what  had  occurred,  that  his  anger  and  his 
sense  of  humiliation  returned. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  116 

When  his  words  had  sent  Esther  flying  up  to  West- 
hills  to  know  the  worst,  he  went  up  to  his  bedroom 
and  began  in  a  dogged  manner  to  pack  his  port- 
manteau. During  the  process  he  had  to  change  his 
coat,  and  therefore  turned  out  the  contents  of  his 
pockets  upon  the  bed.  There  was  a  yellow  crumpled 
sheet  of  paper  among  them  which  he  did  not  recognize. 
On  looking  at  it  again,  he  remembered  with  some  dis- 
may that  it  was  the  paper  which  had  dropped  from 
the  cabinet  drawer  when  he  was  trying  to  close  it 
hastily.  He  picked  it  up,  straightened  it,  and,  still 
standing  beside  the  bed,  began  to  read  the  contents. 
Presently  he  flung  it  down,  and  seated  himself  with 
his  head  between  his  hands,  his  breath  coming  heavily 
as  if  he  had  held  it  for  a  time,  as  one  holds  one's 
breath  in  moments  of  intense  surprise. 

He  had  brought  away  with  him  the  letter  for  which 
he  had  searched  so  eagerly  that  morning  and  never 
found:  the  missing  letter  from  Lord  Belfield  in  reply 
to  Lady  Muncaster. 


116  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

DISMISSAL. 

By  the  time  Esther  reached  Westhills,  Lady  Char- 
lotte had  had  time  to  lash  herself  into  a  condition  of 
storm  and  fury,  which  was  far  more  intense  in  view  of 
Esther's  delinquencies,  than  with  regard  to  those  of 
Arthur.  "I  trusted  you  entirely,"  she  said  to  Esther 
as  the  latter  stood  before  her  like  a  culprit,  "and  you 
have  utterly  abused  my  confidence." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say,"  Esther  responded,  wring- 
ing her  hands  nervously  together  at  the  reproach. 
"I  ought  never  to  have  let  the  mistake — the  deception 
— continue  for  a  single  moment.  But  I  never  thought 
— I  never  for  one  single  moment  thought  that  Arthur 
would  take  advantage  of  it  in  this  way.''  Here  she 
broke  down  and  cried  bitterly,  with  the  effect  of  irritat- 
ing Lady  Charlotte  more  than  ever;-  for  Lady  Char- 
lotte hated  tears. 

"It  is  no  use  crying,"  she  said  in  her  sharpest  tones. 
"Of  course  you  will  see  for  yourself,  Miss  Ellison,  that 
it  would  be  inadvisable  for  you  to  remain  here  any 
longer.  I  don't  say  that  you  acted  from  bad  motives, 
but  really  the  whole  thing  is  intolerable.  Your  cousin 
wanted  to  worm  himself  into  the  house,  to  get  what 
he  could  out  of  us — perhaps  even  to  marry  Lisa — I 
never  heard  of  such  impudence  in  my  life;  and  you — 
you  aided  and  abetted  him!  I  really  was  never  so 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  117 

much  astounded  as  when  he  told  me  that  you  were  not 
his  sister  after  all." 

Esther  took  her  hands  from  her  face.  "No,"  she 
said,  with  a  novel  spirit  and  dignity,  which  took  her 
accuser  by  surprise;  "you  must  not  say  that  of  me, 
Lady  Charlotte.  I  never  aided  and  abetted  Arthur  in 
any  of  his  schemes;  I  did  not  know  of  them.  He  took 
me  by  surprise  when  he  claimed  to  be  my  brother  be- 
fore you,  and  I  didn't  like  to  contradict  him,  to  put  him 
to  shame,  as  it  were,  before  you  all." 

"Very  weak  of  you,''  commented  Lady  Charlotte.  "I 
suppose  it  is  a  weakness  that  proceeded  from  the  fact 
of  your  attachment  to  him?'' 

"My— attachment?" 

"You  were  engaged  to  him  once,  I  think?" 

"Yes — once,"  said  Esther,  utterly  confounded  by  the 
question,  for  Arthur  had  not  given  her  a  very  full  re- 
port of  what  he  had  said  and  done.  "But — " 

She  meant  to  explain  that  it  had  been  only  when  she 
was  seventeen  years  old — a  boy  and  girl  attachment 
that  had  very  soon  come  to  an  end  on  both  sides.  But 
Lady  Charlotte  cut  her  short. 

"It  would  be  a  good  thing,  Miss  Ellison,  if  you  were 
to  renew  and  consummate  the  engagement  as  soon  as 
possible,"  she  said  very  stiffly.  "It  is  the  only  way  of 
repairing  the  mischief  that  has  been  done,  and  to  re- 
move any  aspersion  on  your  character.  I  must  say 
that  I  shall  sincerely  hope  to  hear  of  you  and  your 
cousin  once  more — and  once  more  only,"  she  added 
with  emphasis,  "and  that  is  on  the  day  of  your  mar- 
riage." 


118  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

Esther  stood  silent  What  about  Justin?  And 
what  would  he  say  when  he  heard  Lady  Charlotte's 
version  of  the  whole  affair?  She  thought  for  one  mo- 
ment of  trying  to  see  him  first;  then  she  hung  her  head 
and  wondered  how  she  could  justify  herself  in  his  eyes. 
No,  it  was  impossible !  Having  done  wrong,  she  must 
accept  her  punishment:  and  even  if  Justin  decided 
that  she  was  no  fit  wife  for  him,  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  in  conscience  protest  against  her  fate. 

She  looked  so  pale  and  miserable,  that  Lady  Char- 
lotte was  almost  surprised  to  hear  the  resolution  of  her 
clear  tones  as  she  spoke. 

"That  is  out  of  the  question.  I  would  never  marry 
Arthur  if  he  asked  me  a  thousand  times.  And  also, 
that  is  not  likely:  he  cares  for — Lisa." 

"Keep  my  niece's  name  out  of  all  connection  with 
his,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  severely.  "I 
hope  and  trust  that  when  Lisa  is  completely  severed 
from  you  and  from  your — h'm,  cousin,  she  will  turn 
her  mind  to  other  things.  I  shall  take  her  abroad,  if 
necessary,  or  let  her  see  a  little  modern  society.  She 
need  no  longer  think  of  college  life  or  anything  of  that 
kind;  this — this  escapade  puts  an  end  to  those  plans. 
I  shall  not  trust  her  away  from  home  without  me." 

"I  may  be  to  blame,  and  Arthur,  too,"  said  Esther, 
flaming,  as  she  sometimes  did,  into  sudden  wrath,  "but 
it  is  quite  unjust  to  blame  Lisa;  Lisa  was  not  to 
blame." 

"Miss  Daubeny's  conduct  is  not  under  discussion,  I 
think.  I  have  my  own  opinion  of  hers — and  of  yours. 
In  fact,  I  think  you  have  all  three  acted  disgracefully, 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  119 

and  I  am  ashamed  of  my  niece !"  cried  Lady  Charlotte, 
whose  temper  was  hotter  than  even  Esther's  own.  "I 
can  only  hope  for  her  sake  that  we  shall  see  no  more  of 
you  and  your  family." 

"You  shall  certainly  see  no  more  of  me,  unless  you 
can  acknowledge  that  you  are  doing  me  an  injustice," 
said  Esther,  quivering  with  mortification,  and  too  much 
moved  to  know  exactly  that  she  was  committing  her- 
self to  a  course  of  action  which  might  cause  her  some 
difficulty  in  the  future. 

"That  is  hardly  likely,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  with  a 
short  laugh.  "Well,  it's  no  use  prolonging  this  ex- 
tremely painful  interview.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  it 
necessary  to  correspond  with  Lisa,  for  I  warn  you  that 
I  shall  open  and  return  your  letters,  and  I  do  not  think 
that  she  is  as  yet  prepared  to  enter  upon  a  clandestine 
correspondence." 

"Neither  am  I,"  said  Esther.  "And  I  do  not  think 
that  my  one  error  altogether  justifies  you  in  insulting 
me,  Lady  Charlotte." 

Lady  Charlotte  glanced  at  her,  but  made  no  further 
answer.  Esther  was  bitterly  conscious  that  the  scorn 
conveyed  in  that  glance  was  too  deep  for  words.  But 
in  reality,  Lady  Charlotte  was  reflecting  that  the  girl's 
tone  was  spirited  and  genuine,  and  that  she  was  very 
far  superior  to  that  wretched  cousin  of  hers,  who  was 
no  doubt  chiefly  to  blame.  She  was  very  angry  with 
Esther  still,  but  she  did  not  despise  her. 

Esther,  however,  read  nothing  but  contempt  in  the 
gesture  with  which  her  late  employer  pushed  an  un- 
sealed envelope  to  her  across  the  table.  As  in 


120  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

Arthur's  case,  Lady  Charlotte  was  prepared  to  act 
handsomely.  She  had  written  a  check  for  twice  the 
amount  due,  although  she  did  not  consider  herself 
really  bound,  under  the  circumstances,  to  make  com- 
pensation for  instant  dismissal.  But,  in  spite  of  her 
anger,  she  wasn't  altogether  surprised  when  Esther, 
with  an  upward  lift  of  her  proud  little  head,  took  the 
check  out  of  the  envelope,  tore  it  in  two,  and  de- 
posited the  pieces  on  the  table. 

"That's  folly/'  said  Lady  Charlotte,  who  knew  never- 
theless, that  she  herself  would  have  done  the  same: 
"You  may  want  the  money.  I  shall  send  it  by  post." 

"I  hope  you  will  not  give  yourself  that  trouble.  I 
shall  not  accept  it,"  said  Esther,  looking  very  white 
and  fierce.  "I  would  not  accept  a  penny  from  a  person 
who  said  that  she  could  not  trust  me." 

"As  you  like,  Miss  Ellison.  But  you  must  at  least 
take  what  is  owing  to  you." 

"I  will  take  what  I  have  worked  for,  and  nothing 
more."  Esther  named  the  sum:  it  was  not  a  large  one. 
"I  have  no  right  to  decline  what  I  have  earned,  for  I 
shall  have  to  pay  my  landlady.  But  nothing  more." 

Lady  Charlotte  wrote  another  check  in  silence,  and 
gave  it  into  Esther's  hand.  Then,  looking  at  her  with 
a  touch  of  mingled  kindness  and  compunction,  she 
added.  "I  am  always  ready  to  be  referred  to  as  re- 
gards your  competency  to  teach.  And  I  wish  well  to 
you,  Miss  Ellison,  but  I  strongly  advise  you  to  marry 
your  cousin  as  soon  as  possible,  and  to  persuade  him  to 
set  about  earning  an  honest  living." 

With  which  words  she  swept  out  of  the  room,  not 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  121 

choosing  to  wait  for  the  hot  answer  that  hovered  on 
Esther's  lips. 

It  was  with  a  sore  heart  that  the  girl  went  back  to 
the  farmhouse,  and  began  to  pack  up  her  things.  She 
found,  as  she  had  expected  to  find,  that  Arthur  was 
gone.  Probably  he  did  not  care  to  face  her  after  her 
interview  with  Lady  Charlotte.  There  was  a  note  for 
her  on  the  table.  "I  am  going  back  to  my  old  quar- 
ters: shall  see  you  when  you  come  to  town.  Let  me 
know  where  you  are.  I  suppose  you  too  have  been 
thrown  overboard  by  the  Westhills  people.  Would 
advise  you  to  make  the  running  with  J.  T.  as  soon  as 
possible — before  the  Witch  of  Endor  gets  hold  of  him." 
Arthur  had  often  spoken  in  private  of  Lady  Charlotte 
as  the  Witch  of  Endor.  "He  is  at  Hurst  to-night;  see 
him  before  you  leave.  This  is  disinterested  advice,  be- 
cause I  know  that  you  will  throw  me  over  as  soon  as 
you  are  allied  to  the  Byng  family.  Yours  A.  E." 

Esther  tore  the  letter  into  li*tie  pieces  and  then  sat 
down,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  thought. 

She  hated  Arthur's  suggestion,  and  yet  she  wished 
that  she  could  act  upon  it.  If  she  could  see  Justin  be- 
fore Lady  Charlotte  spoke  to  him — for  it  was  certain 
that  the  whole  history  would  be  poured  into  Mr.  Thor- 
old's  ear — she  would  have  a  much  better  chance  of  jus- 
tifying herself  in  his  eyes.  She  was  prepared  to  say 
that  she  had  done  wrong,  yet  she  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  his  hearing  the  unqualified  condemnation 
which  Lady  Charlotte  would  pour  upon  her  name.  If 
she  could  but  tell  him  herself!  Should  she  send  him  a 
note? — But  no,  it  would  make  people  talk:  it  might 


122  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

even  come  to  Lady  Charlotte's  ears  and  make  her 
angrier  than  ever.  Should  she  go  up  to  his  house  and 
ask  to  see  him?  Ah,  no,  that  was  quite  out  of  the 
question.  Perhaps,  by  some  lovely,  lucky  chance,  he 
might  come  to  the  farm  that  evening,  as  he  had  come 
before,  and  then  she  would  have  the  opportunity  of 
pouring  out  her  heart  to  him.  But  it  was  only  a 
chance;  and  what  if  he  did  not  come?  Could  she  go 
back  to  London  without  a  word? 

After  long  reflection,  she  decided  that  she  would 
wait  at  the  farm  until  the  following  morning,  and  if  by 
that  time  she  had  heard  nothing  from  him,  or  of  him, 
she  would  write  to  him  by  post.  He  had  at  any  rate  a 
right  to  know  where  she  had  gone.  And  then  she 
thought  of  Lady  Charlotte's  wrath  and  chagrin  at  find- 
ing out  that  not  only  had  Lisa  fallen  in  love  with  Ar- 
thur Ellison,  but  that  her  paragon,  Justin  Thorold, 
had  made  a  proposal  of  marriage  to  Esther  Ellison  her- 
self. She  went  on  languidly  with  her  packing  until 
nearly  four  o'clock.  She  had  had  no  lunch,  but  she 
wanted  none.  At  four  o'clock  Mrs.  Brown  brought 
her  a  cup  of  tea  and  looked  at  her  pale  face  and  swollen 
eyes  with  great  sympathy.  Mrs.  Brown  had  no  doubt 
at  all  as  to  what  was  wrong.  She  had  never  liked  Mr. 
Ellison,  and  she  was  sure  that  he  had  got  himself  into 
some  trouble  at  Westhills,  and  that  both  he  and  his 
sister  were  to  be  "sent  away"  in  consequence.  Mrs. 
Brown  knew  no  better  than  to  talk  as  if  Mr.  and  Miss 
Ellison  were  a  sort  of  superior  valet  and  ladies'-maid. 

Esther  drank  the  tea  and  felt  slightly  depressed.  She 
had  almost  dropped  into  a  doze  when  a  noise  in  the 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  123 

room  awakened  her,  and  starting  up,  she  saw  Lisa 
Daubeny  looking  down  at  her  with  the  sweet  face  of  a 
pitying  angel.  Esther,  gazing  at  her,  thought  curiously 
that  she  was  scarcely  discomposed.  Her  eyelids  might 
be  a  little  reddened,  her  cheek  a  little  pale;  but  there 
was  no  other  change.  Yet  all  this  overturning  of  her 
friend's  life  was  in  part  her  doing.  Why  had  she 
chosen  to  give  her  heart  to  one  so  unworthy  of  it  as 
Arthur  Ellison?  "You  look  at  me  coldly,  Esther," 
Lisa  said.  "Dear,  dear  Esther,  it  is  not  my  fault.  I 
could  not  help  loving  him!"  Esther  felt  as  though 
she  had  unintentionally  spoken  aloud.  Lisa  had  an- 
swered her  very  thought. 

"Why  are  you  here?"  she  said  almost  coldly.  "You 
know  that  Lady  Charlotte  would  be  very  angry — " 

"I  told  her  that  I  was  coming  to  see  you  and  to  say 
Good-bye,"  said  Lisa.  It  seemed  to  Esther  that  she 
had  never  before  observed  the  determination  denoted 
by  Lisa's  square  chin  and  steady  mouth.  "She  could 
not  prevent  me,  of  course,  although  she  told  me  that 
she  wished  me  not  to  come.  But  I  said  that,  under  the 
circumstances,  I  must  take  my  own  way." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Esther.  "Not  sorry  to  see  you, 
dear;  but  sorry  that  Lady  Charlotte  should  be  dis- 
pleased. I  wonder,  Lisa,  if  it  would  have  made  any 
difference  to  you  if  you  had  known  that  Arthur  was 
not  my  brother?" 

"None  at  all,"  said  Lisa.  "But  it  was  just  that  which 
brought  me  to  speak  to  you.  Esther,  Aunt  Charlotte 
says  that  you  are  engaged  to  Arthur — " 

"No,  no !    That  is  not  true." 


124  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"And  that  it  would  be  the  greatest  kindness  on  my 
part  to  give  him  up  to  you.  You  know  I  love  you, 
Esther,  and  if  this  were  true — " 

"But  it  is  not  true,"  said  Esther,  with  sudden  energy. 
"Listen, .Lisa:  the  truth  is  this.  Arthur  and  I  were 
brought  up  together  in  the  same  house,  almost  like 
brother  and  sister.  When  I  was  seventeen  and  he  one 
and  twenty,  he — we — became  engaged  for  a  little  while. 
We  cared  very  little  for  each  other,  I  think — at  any 
rate,  in  three  months  we  found  out  that  we  did  not  care 
at  all,  in  that  way.  We  broke  off  the  foolish  engage- 
ment and  went  back  to  our  old  relation  of  adopted 
brother  and  sister.  It  was  this  long  knowledge  of  each 
other,  this  long  intimacy  of  childhood,  which  made  it 
seem  less  terrible  to  me  than  it  ought  to  have  done, 
when  Arthur  declared  himself  to  be  my  brother.  It 
seemed  so  very  like  the  truth !'' 

"I  understand,"  said  Lisa:  but  there  was  a  wistful 
look  in  her  clear  eyes.  She  added  presently,  in  almost 
pathetic  tones,  "How  was  it  that  he  said  so?  Why — '' 

Esther  answered,  without  thinking  of  the  effect  that 
her  words  might  have ;  "I  suppose  he  was  so  anxious 
to  get  an  introduction  to  you — all;" — the  word  "all" 
was  an  afterthought — "that  he  did  not  mind  what 
means  he  employed." 

She  was  sorry  that  she  had  said  it.  The  pink  deep- 
ened in  Lisa's  cheek,  and  spread  to  her  ears  and  brow 
and  chin.  It  was  evident  that  she  thought  Arthur's 
deception  to  have  proceeded  from  his  love  to  her; 
whereas  Esther  knew  it  to  have  been  simply  a  matter  of 
self-interest. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  125 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  trying  to  find  words  that 
should  not  sound  too  brutal,  "I  am  afraid  he  thought 
that  Lady  Charlotte  might  recommend  him  or  help  in 
some  way." 

"That  is  not  like  you,  Esther,"  said  Lisa  reproach- 
fully. "To  attribute  a  low  motive,  when  you  can't  be 
sure  of  it,  it  is  not  the  action  of  a  friend." 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  am  Arthur's  friend  at 
present.  Lady  Charlotte  is  right :  he  has  behaved  dis- 
gracefully. Lisa,  dear,  put  him  out  of  your  mind — out 
of  your  heart.  He  is  not  worthy  of  your  love." 

"You  are  indeed  unlike  yourself,"  said  Lisa.  "If 
you  cannot  trust  him,  I  can." 

"Trust  him !"  echoed  Esther  despairingly. 

"I  shall  be  faithful  to  him  all  my  life.  I  shall  never 
love  anyone  else.  You  can  tell  him  so  from  me  when 
you  see  him." 

"I  shall  take  no  messages." 

"I  shall  find  another  way  then  of  letting  him  know. 
Good-bye,  Esther.  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to 
know  how  much  I  loved  him." 

She  held  Esther's  hand  in  her  own,  and  looked  with 
steady  inquiry  into  Esther's  sorrowful  eyes.  Reading 
there  the  answer  that  she  wanted  she  laid  down  her 
friend's  hands  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh.  "It  is  not  that, 
then !"  she  said. 

Esther  understood.  "It  is  not  that,  certainly.  I 
love  another  man." 

Esther  kissed  her.  "You  don't  wish  for  my  happi- 
ness," she  said  reproachfully,  "but  I  will  pray  for 
yours." 


126  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Ah,  Lisa,  Lisa,"  cried  Esther.  "I  will  pray  for 
yours  too — but  it  will  not  come  with  Arthur  or  Arthur's 
love." 

In  a  little  while  she  was  again  alone,  and  then  she 
changed  her  dress  and  washed  her  face,  and  hoped  that 
Justin  would  come  to  her.  But  the  day  wore  to  a 
close,  and  the  night  deepened,  and  Esther  waited  in 
vain.  For  Justin  Thorold  was  dining  that  evening 
at  Westhills.  Lady  Charlotte  had  sent  him  a  hasty 
note  of  invitation  soon  after  luncheon,  and  he  had  re- 
sponded to  it  in  some  wonderment.  From  his  first 
entrance  he  knew  that  something  was  amiss.  Even 
the  servants  looked  mysterious.  Lady  Charlotte's 
brow  was  ominously  black,  and  Mr.  Byng  wore  an  air 
of  extreme  annoyance.  Lisa  was  not  visible:  she  had 
retired  to  her  room,  feeling  unable  to  sit  out  the  long 
dinner,  in  the  presence  of  a  visitor  before  whom  she 
felt  sure  that  her  misdemeanors  would  be  laid.  Nobody 
ever  attributed  to  Mr.  Thorold  more  than  the  slightest 
possible  passing  interest  in  the  Ellisons.  His  grave 
and  usually  impassive  demeanor  had  very  successfully 
hidden  any  traces  of  his  passion  for  Esther. 

It  was  not  until  dessert  was  on  the  table  and  the 
servants  had  gone  that  any  free  conversation  could 
take  place;  but  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  Justin  put 
the  question: 

"Is  anything  wrong?" 

"Everything,''  said  Lady  Charlotte  vehemently. 

"It's  a  bad  business,"  said  Mr.  Byng,  shaking  his 
mild  head.  And  then  the  story  came  out,  head  first,  so 
to  speak,  so  confused  and  entangled  by  Lady  Char- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  127 

lotte's  wrathful  metaphors,  that  Thorold  could  not  tell 
for  some  time  whether  it  was  Lisa  that  had  been  sent 
out  of  the  house,  or  Esther  who  had  been  "rummag- 
ing" Lady  Charlotte's  drawer  or  Arthur  who  had  torn 
up  a  check  and  thrown  it  in  Lady  Charlotte's  face. 
When  at  length  light  began  to  shine  upon  his  mind,  he 
looked  very  grave  indeed. 

"It  is  a  very  extraordinary  story,"  he  remarked 
soberly. 

"I  was  never  so  much  deceived  in  my  life!"  cried 
Lady  Charlotte.  "The  young  man  does  not  want  for 
brains,  but  he  is  a  cad — a  thorough-going  cad,  an  im- 
postor." 

"To  make  love  to  Lisa  was  certainly  carrying  mat- 
ters very  far,  you  must  acknowledge,  Justin,"  said  Mr. 
Byng,  with  an  inkling  that  his  cousin  was  somewhat 
lukewarm  in  his  denunciation  of  the  culprit. 

"It  was  presumption,  certainly.  But  one  can  make 
allowances — one  does  not  always  consult  parents  and 
guardians  before  winning  a  lady's  heart,  I  believe,"  said 
Justin,  with  a  glance  at  Lady  Charlotte.  It  was  well 
known  that  she  had  married  Mr.  Byng  quite  against 
her  father's  will. 

"Things  are  very  different  where  there  is  no  disparity 
of  position,"  said  that  lady.  "He  should  have  married 
his  cousin — it  seems  they  were  once  engaged — " 

"His  cousin?"  said  Mr.  Thorold. 

"Oh,  didn't  I  tell  you?  Miss  Ellison  is  not  his  sister 
at  all — his  cousin  only — and  they  were  engaged  to  be 
married — " 

"Miss  Ellison  his  cousin!" 


128  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"One  would  not  have  thought  it  of  her,"  said  Lady 
Charlotte,  with  an  acrid  kind  of  laugh ;  "she  seemed  so 
frank  and  open,  but  I'm  afraid  she  is  as  much  a 
schemer  as  her  cousin.  Almost  as  much,  at  any  rate," 
she  added  with  an  impulse  of  candor.  "She  owned  to 
me  with  tears  that  she  had  allowed  this  young  man  to 
deceive  us — I  don't  know  why — I  suppose  for  the  sake 
of  getting  a  footing  in  this  house.  She  seemed  dis- 
tressed, but  I  do  not  wonder  at  that:  it  must  be  rather  a 
blow  for  her  to  lose  her  post  here  and  to  know  that  she 
has  really  no  chance  of  getting  another." 

"Why  not?  What  have  you  done?"  said  Mr.  Thor- 
old  with  something  that  startled  Lady  Charlotte  in  his 
tone. 

"I  dismissed  her  at  once,  of  course,  my  dear  Justin. 
It  would  never  have  done  to  keep  her  here,  in  constant 
intercourse  with  Lisa.  And  although  I  shall  always  be 
willing  to  speak  highly  of  her  attainments,  yet — as  to 
truthfulness  and  straightforward  conduct — " 

"Forgive  me  for  interrupting  you,"  said  Justin, 
rather  hoarsely.  "I  cannot  let  you  go  on,  Lady  Char- 
lotte, without  making  a  somewhat  important  announce- 
ment." 

He  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose,  looking  pale,  but 
stiffer  than  ever.  "I  was  only  waiting  until  Miss  Elli- 
son had  concluded  her  duties  in  this  house  to  tell  you 
that  I  had  asked  her  to  be  my  wife,  and  that  she  had 
consented.  Under  these  circumstances,  you  will  see 
that  I  cannot  allow  her  to  be  accused  of  untruthful- 
ness." 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  129 

"You  must  be  mad,  Justin!"  cried  Lady  Charlotte. 
"The  girl's  beneath  you  in  every  way." 

"No,  not  in  mind  nor  in  character,''  he  said  firmly. 
"And  those  are  things  I  value  most." 

"She  is  engaged  to  her  cousin,  I  tell  you!" 

"That  I  cannot  believe  unless  I  hear  it  from  her  own 
lips." 

"You  can't  be  in  earnest,  Justin?"  said  Mr.  Byng,  in  a 
tone  of  feeble  remonstrance. 

"I  am  quite  in  earnest.  I  believe  nothing  against  her, 
and  shall  marry  her  as  soon  as  I  can  get  her  to  fix  the 
day." 

"I  shall  not  receive  her." 

"Of  course  you  can  do  as  you  please  in  that  respect, 
Lady  Charlotte."  His  voice  was  civil,  but  perfectly 
firm. 

Lady  Charlotte  fell  back  in  her  chair.  "I  thought 
I  had  reached  the  end  of  our  troubles  with  the  Ellison 
family,"  she  said,  "but  I  see  they  are  only  beginning. 
For  God's  sake,  speak,  Howard,  and  speak  out!  Tell 
him  that  you  do  not  intend  to  put  Westhills  at  the 
mercy  of  that  girl — that  you  would  sooner  leave  the 
place  to  a  beggar  in  the  streets!  Let  your  cousin 
know  that  he  forfeits  all  friendship,  all  countenance 
from  us,  if  he  marries  that  wretched  little  creature.  Let 
him  choose  between  us — and  surely  he  will  see  his  mis- 
take." 

"If  I  have  to  choose  between  Esther  and  Westhills,  I 
choose  Esther,"  said  Justin  manfully.  But  Lady  Char- 
lotte's words  came  upon  him  like  a  blow.-  For  al- 
though Mr.  Byng  had  done  nothing  so  far  but  groan 


130  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

distressfully,  Justin  was  well  aware  that  Lady  Char- 
lotte would  have  her  way.  He  could  not  look  to  be 
master  of  Westhills,  if  he  married  Esther  Ellison. 

He  took  leave  immediately  and  went  away,  but  he 
did  not  call  at  the  farm  on  his  homeward  way.  It  was 
too  late,  he  thought,  to  disturb  Esther  that  night.  And 
when  he  called  next  morning,  she  had  taken  the  early 
train  to  London  and  he  did  not  know  her  address. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  131 

CHAPTER  X. 

A   WANT   OF   TRUST. 

A  day  or  two  later,  Mr.  Thorold  received  a  short 
note  from  Esther.  It  was  an  odd  little  note,  without 
proper  beginning  or  ending  and  signed  only  by  her  ini- 
tials. But  it  gave  her  address  in  London,  which  was 
what  he  was  chiefly  concerned  about.  And  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  he  received  it,  he  went 
up  to  London  and  knocked  at  her  door  about  five 
o'clock,  the  time  when  she  said  she  should  be  at  home. 

Mr.  Thorold  was  certainly  not  pleased  at  the  turn 
which  things  had  been  taking,  and  it  was  perhaps  for 
this  reason  that  his  bearing  had  an  involuntary  stiff- 
ness, his  face  an  unconscious  gravity  and  coldness,  as 
he  waited  at  Esther's  door.  Lady  Charlotte  had  given 
him  great  annoyance  during  the  last  few  days.  She 
had  caused  Mr.  Byng  to  write  to  him  a  solemn  letter 
warning  him  that  Westhills  was  not  entailed  and  he 
should  consider  the  claims  of  other  relations  before 
leaving  it  to  a  man  who  had  "contracted  a  mesalliance." 
The  expression  made  Thorold  laugh  in  spite  of  himself, 
but  he  felt  hurt  as  well.  There  was  no  mesalliance,  to 
his  eyes,  in  a  marriage  with  Esther  Ellison.  She  had 
spoken  to  him  quite  frankly — or  so  he  believed,  with 
the  one  exception  of  her  relationship  to  Arthur — on 
the  subject  of  her  family  and  connections.  Her  father 
had  been  a  chemist  in  a  country  town:  her  mother,  be- 


132  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

fore  her  marriage,  a  nursery  governess.  The  family 
of  neither  had  any  pretensions  to  anything  more  than 
respectability,  but  Esther's  father  and  grandfather  had 
been  book-lovers,  and  it  was  probably  from  them  that 
she  derived  her  studious  tastes.  Mr.  Ellison  had  not 
been  a  successful  man,  and  the  three  hundred  pounds 
that  he  had  left  his  daughter  was  the  only  sum  he  had 
been  able  to  put  aside.  But  Esther's  perseverance  and 
energy  had  conquered  all  obstacles  between  her  and  the 
fulfillment  of  her  desires  for  knowledge;  and  she  had 
risen  rapidly  in  academic  circles  to  "the  top  of  the  tree" 
as  represented  by  a  first-class  in  history,  and  a  very 
high  reputation  at  Oxford  for  brilliant  cleverness.  It 
was  a  kind  of  success  which  appealed  particularly  to 
Thorold,  who  valued  it  far  more  highly  than  wealth 
or  social  position.  And  it  seemed  to  him,  therefore, 
a  peculiar  misapplication  of  terms  to  call  his  marriage 
with  Esther  a  mesalliance.  But  he  knew  that  there 
would  be  no  use  in  remonstrating  either  with  Mr.  Byng 
or  with  Lady  Charlotte,  who  could  do  nothing  but 
breathe  flame  and  fury  against  the  Ellisons.  All  her 
magnanimity  seemed  to  have  deserted  her.  In  his 
own  mind,  Thorold  silently  pronounced  her  ungener- 
ous. He  was  quite  determined  to  remain  uninfluenced 
by  anything  she  might  say  against  Esther:  at  the  same 
time  he  was  more  influenced  than  he  knew. 

Esther  had  taken  lodgings  in  the  Bloomsbury  dis- 
trict, not  far  from  the  Museum.  Justin  frowned  at 
sight  of  the  house,  which  struck  him  as  shabby  and 
dingy,  but,  as  he  walked  up  the  narrow  street,  he  said 
to  himself  that  she  should  not  remain  there  very  long. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  133 

Why  should  he  care  for  Lady  Charlotte's  opposition? 
He  felt  bitter  against  his  cousin  as  he  knocked  at 
Esther's  door. 

She  herself  opened  it,  and  he  entered  the  little  shabby 
sitting-room  without  exchanging  more  than  a  perfunc- 
tory greeting  until  the  door  was  shut.  Then  he  turned 
to  her  with  a  quick,  eager  movement,  and  took  the 
little  figure  straight  into  his  arms.  He  expected  her  to 
cry  a  little,  or  to  say  some  tender  word  of  gladness 
that  he  had  come;  but  she  neither  moved  nor  spoke, 
only  let  herself  rest  against  him  in  a  passive  way  that 
struck  him  as  unnatural.  Presently  he  turned  her  face 
up  with  his  hand  and  kissed  it.  He  saw  a  very  pale, 
tired  little  face,  with  dark  rings  round  the  eyes,  and  a 
look  as  if  all  the  beauty  and  color  and  life  in  it  had  been 
wept  away.  Justin  kissed  it  again,  before  he  spoke. 

"My  poor  little  girl !  I  do  not  like  to  see  you  look 
like  this.  It's  a  miserable  business." 

"Yes,"  said  Esther  faintly.  She  disengaged  herself 
partly  from  his  arms  and  looked  up  at  him.  "You 
know  everything,  I  suppose?" 

"I  think  so.  Lady  Charlotte  did  not  spare  me  de- 
tails. But  I  don't  understand." 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  That  was  why  I  wanted  to  see 
you."  She  paused  and  made  an  effort  to  command 
herself.  "I  must  not  forget  my  duties.  There  is  tea 
here — you  will  have  some?" 

"Speak  first,"  he  said,  rather  abruptly.  "I  would  rather 
that  we  go  over  all  that  there  is  to  say,  then  we  can  be 
comfortable  together.  Just  now  things  seem  in  such 
an  unsettled  state :  I  hardly  know  what  to  believe.'' 


134  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"I  don't  know  that  speaking  will  make  things  much 
better,"  said  Esther  rather  wearily.  "But  let  us  talk 
by  all  means.  Sit  down;  there  is  one  easy  chair  at 
least;  and  you  shall  tell  me  what  you  want  to  know." 

He  seated  himself  as  she  desired,  and  looked  round 
with  an  air  of  dissatisfaction.  The  room  was  dark, 
dingy,  low-ceiled  and — to  his  thinking — almost 
squalid.  "I  must  get  you  out  of  this,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  disgust  which  made  Esther  smile  for  the  first  time 
that  afternoon. 

"This  is  a  palace  compared  with  some  of  the  rooms 
I  have  had,"  she  said.  "We  working  women  are  not 
used  to  luxuries,  and  I  shall  be  quite  happy  here  for 
the  next  three  months,  while  I  gi\re  my  lectures  at  B — 
Street  School." 

She  seated  herself  on  a  low  chair  beside  him  and  tim- 
idly laid  her  hand  upon  his  knee.  He  knew  quite  well 
what  the  gesture  meant.  She  was  beseeching  him  to 
judge  her  mildly,  to  listen  with  kindness  and  sympathy 
to  all  that  she  had  to  say.  He  was  not  at  all  disposed 
to  do  anything  else.  He  laid  his  hand  over  hers,  and 
looked  down  almost  tenderly  at  her  bowed  dark  head. 

"Your — your — cousin  is  not  here,  I  suppose?"  he 
said  at  last,  as  if  struck  by  a  new  idea. 

"Oh,  no.  He  is  lodging  in  Kensington,  I  believe. 
I  have  not  seen  him/' 

"Little  woman,  I  can't  think  how  you  came  to  sub- 
mit to  his  desires." 

"But  I  did,  you  see,  Justin.  We  can't  get  over  the 
fact,"  said  Esther,  sadly.  "I  was  weak:  I  did  not  like 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  135 

to  say  that  he  was  not  telling  the  truth  before  every- 
one, and  I  let  it  pass.     It  was  very  wrong." 

"I  can't  see  that  you  were  so  very  much  to  blame," 
said  Justin,  who  would  have  blamed  her  more  if  she 
had  been  less  hard  on  her  self.  "Of  course  you  did  not 
know  what  he  was  going  to  do.  He  did  not  take  you 
into  his  confidence  with  respect  to  Lisa,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh  no,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.''  Then 
with  the  color  rising,  she  added,  "You  have  heard  per- 
haps, that  I  was  engaged  to  him — once." 

Justin  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "I  must  say,"  he 
replied  at  last,  rather  icily,  "that  I  should  have  pre- 
ferred to  think  that  Lady  Charlotte  made  a  mistake 
upon  that  point." 

"It  was  when  I  was  very  young,"  said  Esther.  "It 
lasted  a  very  little  while  and  I  never  really  cared  for 
him.  Oh,  Justin,  you  don't  think  that? — you  don't 
think  that  I  cared?" 

"No,''  he  said — almost  unwillingly,  as  it  seemed  to 
her.  "I  don't  think  you  cared.  But  it  has  been  an  un- 
fortunate business  altogether.  I  should  like  to  say, 
Esther,  although  I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  your  feelings  in 
any  way,  that  my  doors  can  never  be  open  to  Mr.  Ar- 
thur Ellison." 

Esther  started  a  little.  "It  is  not  that  I  wish  to  be 
friendly  with  him,"  she  said,  "for  I  think  he  has  not  be- 
haved well — but  I  should  like  to  know  exactly  on  what 
grounds  you  mean  to  refuse  him  admission  to  your 
house.  Is  it — like  Lady  Charlotte — simply  because  he 
wanted  to  marry  Lisa?  Because,  you  know,  he  and  I 
are  in  the  same  position." 


136  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"Not  precisely,"  said  Thorold.  "A  man's  wife  takes 
his  position:  that  is  just  the  difference.  Your  cousin 
has  no  position  at  all  to  offer  Lisa.  But  apart  from 
that,  I  would  rather  not  receive  him,  because  I  hold 
that  he  has  acted  in  an  ungentlemanly  manner,  by  pass- 
ing himself  off  as  your  brother  and  placing  you  in  a 
very  unpleasant  position.  He  has,  in  fact,  shown  him- 
self not  a  trustworthy  character,  and  I  should  very 
much  object  not  only  to  admitting  him  to  my  house, 
but  to  allowing  any  intercourse  between  him  and  my 
wife." 

Esther  paused  a  little  while  before  she  replied.  "I 
daresay  you  are  quite  right.  I  wish  to  have  as  little  to 
do  with  Arthur  as  possible.  But  I  am  not  sure 
whether  I  should  be  able  to  promise  never  to  see  him 
or  speak  to  him — or  help  him,  again." 

"I  am  afraid  I  can  give  you  no  choice,"  said  Justin 
very  gravely.  "I  must  insist  that  all  acquaintance  be- 
tween your  cousin  and  yourself  cease  at  once.  If  he 
wants  help,  I  will  undertake  to  supply  it;  but  it  must 
not  come  from  you." 

"You  make  me  feel  as  though  you  did  not  trust  me," 
said  Esther,  with  some  indication  of  anger  in  her  tone. 

"It  is  not  that  at  all.  I  trust  you  perfectly.  But  he 
has  implicated  you  already  in  what  might  have  turned 
out  to  be  a  worse  business  even  than  it  is.  Have  you 
not  heard  that  Lady  Charlotte  accuses  him  of  ransack- 
ing her  private  papers?" 

"No! — oh,  that  is  impossible!" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  from  her  story.  Your  cousin 
hardly  denied  it.  I  cannot  possibly  admit  to  my  house 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  137 

a  man  who  cannot  rebut  an  accusation  of  this  kind, 
and  neither  can  I  think  him  a  suitable  person  for  my 
wife  to  know." 

Esther  bit  her  lips.  "I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  in  a 
choking  voice,  "that  your  wife  is  not  a  very  suitable 
person  either.  Your  friends  are  sure  to  say  so." 

"They  are  not  my  friends  if  they  make  such  observa- 
tions." 

"Ladv  Charlotte  makes  them,  I  am  sure.  You  have 
told  her?" 

"Yes." 

"And  what  did  she  say?" 

Justin  hesitated.  "It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to 
repeat  her  words.  She  was  not  in  the  best  of  moods — 
she  did  not  choose  her  phrases." 

"Ah! — have  you  seen  her  since?" 

"No." 

"Bat  you  have  heard  from  her?  Dear  Justin,  don't 
hide  the  truth  from  me :  it  is  very  important  to  me  that 
I  should  know  what  your  friends  say,  before  you  marry 
me." 

"I  do  not  see  that  it  is  important.  Lady  Charlotte 
can  be  uncivil;  that  is  all."  But  he  did  not  look  her  in 
the  eyes  as  he  spoke,  and  she  felt  that  there  was  some- 
thing more. 

She  sat  for  a  moment  lost  in  thought.  Then  some 
words  that  she  had  heard  came  back  to  her. 

"What  about  Westhills?"  she  queried  almost  sharply. 
"Have  I  not  heard  that  Westhills  will  come  to  you 
from  Mr.  Byng?" 

"Well — it  is  a  possibility,"  he  owned  reluctantly. 


138  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"It  depends  upon  Mr.  Byng's  choice  of  an  heir?" 

He  nodded  silently. 

"Then  tell  me,  Justin,  I  hope — they  have  not 
threatened — they  have  not  been  so  offended  with  you 
as  to  say — " 

She  stopped  and  looked  into  his  face.  There  was 
guilt  on  every  line  of  it.  She  felt  perfectly  sure  that 
marriage  with  her  would  entail  on  him  the  loss  of 
Westhills,  and  that  he  had  not  meant  to  tell  her  so. 

"They  mean  to  leave  it  away  from  you  if  you  marry 
me,"  she  said  quickly,  but  with  the  manner  of  one  no 
longer  in  doubt. 

"My  dearest—" 

"I  should  be  your  'dearest'  indeed,  if  I  lost  you  West- 
hills,"  said  Esther,  in  whimsical  despair.  ''A  dear  bar- 
gain. Tell  me.  It  is  so,  is  it  not?" 

"A  man  may  change  his  mind  half  a  dozen  times  be- 
fore he  dies,  Esther.  Even  if  Howard  Byng  and  his 
wife  choose  to  say  disagreeable  things,  it  does  not  fol- 
low that  they  will  carry  out  their  threats.  Besides,  I 
am  not  dependent  upon  them.  I  have  Hurst,  and  am 
content  with  it :  it  is  there  that  I  want  you  to  make  my 
home  for  me." 

She  only  said  "I  see,"  with  a  curt  little  nod  and  re- 
mained silent  for  a  time,  with  her  hands  propping  her 
chin  and  her  elbows  on  her  knees.  Justin  watched  her 
with  a  secret  anxiety,  but  he  did  not  offer  to  speak.  He 
felt  aloof  from  her:  he  had  simply  no  conception  of 
what  might  be  passing  in  her  mind. 

By  and  by,  she  raised  her  head  and  flung  out  her 
hands  before  her,  with  the  gesture  of  one  that  rejects  a 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  139 

proposition.  "It  won't  do,"  she  said.  "I've  been 
thinking  of  what  our  life  would  be  and  it  is  intolerable." 

"What?"'  said  Mr.  Thorold,  with  emphasis. 

"I  mean  it.  When  I  saw  Lady  Charlotte  last,  she 
said  that  she  hoped  she  should  see  no  more  of  me  and 
my  family.  I  said — she  never  should,  unless  she  could 
acknowledge  that  she  had  done  me  an  injustice." 

"That  was  a  useless  thing  to  say,  Esther.  Lady 
Charlotte  never  eats  her  words." 

"But  I  can't  be  your  wife,  Justin." 

"My  dear  child—" 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  Esther,  vehemently.  "I 
could  not  go  with  you  to  Hurst  and  live  there,  knowing 
that  I  had  cast  you  off  from  your  only  relatives,  that 
through  me  you  were  impoverished  and  disgraced.  I 
should  be  miserable,  and  so  would  you.  I  will  never 
let  a  man  quarrel  with  his  family  on  my  account." 

"You  mean  that  you  will  sacrifice  my  happiness, — 
and  me — to  your  own  pride,  Esther?" 

"It  does  not  mean  that.  And — oh,  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent, if  you  gave  me  absolute  trust,  Justin.  But 
you  don't — you  don't !" 

"I  have  told  you  I  trust  you  entirely,"  said  Mr.  Thor- 
old, turning  a  little  pale  about  the  lips,  and  looking 
sterner  than  was  his  wont. 

"Yes,  you  have  told  me  so ;  but — I  know  I  have  for- 
feited your  trust.  I  was  weak  once,  and  you  think  I 
may  be  weak  again.  It  is  a  just  punishment,  perhaps, 
but  it  is  hard — it  is  hard!" 

"I  think  nothing  of  the  kind,  Esther.  Indeed,  you 
are  mistaken :  you  have  all  my  trust  and  all  my  love." 


140  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"I  will  test  it,"  said  Esther,  looking  at  him  through 
the  tears  that  had  risen  unbidden  to  her  eyes.  "Do  you 
leave  me  free  to  act  as  I  think  fit  with. regard  to  my 
cousin  Arthur?  If  I  choose  to  write  to  him,  to  speak 
to  him,  will  you  admit  that  I  have  every  right  to  act  as 
I  choose?" 

Justin  hesitated.  "I  can't  go  quite  so  far,"  he  said 
at  last.  "I  must  be  able  surely  to  say  whether  I  like  a 
man  or  not." 

"That  is  not  the  question.  May  I  do  as  I  like  or 
not?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  could  not  give  my  consent  to  your 
friendship  with  your  cousin,  Esther.  After  all  that  has 
passed — " 

"Ah,  you  see!"  she  said,  turning  away  her  head.  "I 
knew.  You  have  no  confidence  in  me." 

"My  dear  Esther,  what  nonsense  this  is !  I  love  you, 
at  any  rate,  with  all  my  heart,  and  you  love  me.  Marry 
me,  dear,  and  these  little  differences  of  opinion  will 
right  themselves.  You  and  I  are  not  the  people  to 
quarrel." 

She  shook  her  head,  then  rose  from  her  seat  and 
walked  silently  to  the  fire-place,  where  she  stood  with 
her  hand  resting  on  the  mantel-piece  and  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  glowing  embers  of  the  little  fire  which  a  wild 
north  wind  had  made  necessary,  even  in  September. 
There  was  a  look  of  subdued  melancholy  in  her  atti- 
tude, which  Justin  found  unspeakably  touching;  but 
his  tongue  seemed  tied:  he  could  find  no  words  in 
which  to  express  himself. 

"I  know  what  it  would  be,"  she  said  presently,  "if  I 


THE  LADY   CHARLOTTE.  141 

married  you  on  this  basis.  You  would  be  cut  off  from 
your  old  friends:  Lady  Charlotte  would  spread  these 
stories  about  me  and  Arthur,  and  people  would  say  I 
was  not  a  proper  person  to  be  presented  to  their  daugh- 
ters; and  then  you  would  be  ashamed  of  me,  and  think 
that  after  all  there  was  some  reason  for  their  gossip, 
and  we  should  both  be  miserable — No,  no !  For  your 
own  happiness,  Justin,  I  must  give  you  up." 

He  approached  her  and  put  his  hand  on  her  wrist, 
trying  to  draw  her  towards  him,  but  she  resisted. 

"Esther,  you  cannot  be  in  earnest." 

"I  am  in  deadly  earnest." 

"Have  you  no  love  for  me?" 

She  gave  him  a  look  of  such  mingled  agony  and  re- 
proach that  he  was  ashamed  of  having  asked  the  ques- 
tion. But  the  look  lent  words  to  his  tongue.  He 
broke  out  into  rapid  speech:  he  argued,  he  implored. 
But  although  Esther  listened,  she  was  not  moved.  She 
grew  paler  and  paler,  but  she  set  her  face  like  a  stone. 

"You  are  more  cruel  than  you  know,"  he  returned, 
in  a  tone  which  vibrated  between  intense  anger  and  the 
bitterest  reproach.  "But  you  have  never  loved  me — 
never;  or  you  could  not  treat  my  love  as  lightly  as 
you  do." 

She  made  no  answer,  but  turned  so  that  he  could 
not  see  her  face.  And  after  waiting  a  moment,  he  left 
her,  without  another  word. 

Then  she  locked  herself  into  her  bedroom,  and  cried 
her  heart  out  for  the  love  she  had  cast  away. 


142  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

CHAPTER  XL 

BETWEEN   TWO    WAYS. 

Lady  Charlotte  carried  out  her  intentions,  as  she  had 
a  habit  of  doing.  At  the  beginning  of  November,  she 
shut  up  her  house,  and  carried  Mr.  Byng  and  Lisa 
away  with  her  to  Italy.  Here  they  passed  some 
months,  chiefly  in  the  larger  cities,  such  as  Florence, 
Rome  and  Venice,  where  they  not  only  studied  Art  and 
saw  the  great  sights,  but  were  immediately  plunged 
into  a  vortex  of  society  and  received  by  the  English 
Colony  with  open  arms.  Not  that  Lady  Charlotte 
confined  herself  to  English  people.  She  had  plenty 
of  acquaintances  among  the  higher  classes  of  Italian 
society;  and  her  apartments  were  crowded  every 
Wednesday  afternoon  by  princes,  statesmen,  and  sol- 
diers of  all  nations,  as  well  as  by  soft-voiced  monsi- 
gnori.  The  latest  novelty  in  Italian  poets  or  novelists, 
and  a  sprinkling  of  artists  and  sculptors.  Among 
these  various  guests  Lisa  moved  like  an  angel  of  light 
— or  so  her  admirers  averred — always  sweet,  gentle, 
attentive  to  every  one's  wishes,  yet  with  the  faint  un- 
earthliness  of  expression  which  a  great  artist  had 
divined,  becoming  more  and  more  perceptible  and  de- 
cided. She  was  painted,  sketched,  modeled,  by  many 
hands  and  in  half  a  dozen  media;  but  that  curious 
aloofness  in  her  eyes  appeared  in  every  representation, 
and  gave  Lady  Charlotte  a  great  deal  of  annoyance. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  143 

"She  looks  as  if  she  were  dreaming  of  heaven!"  said 
one  of  the  admirers,  in  a  devout  tone;  and  Lady  Char- 
lotte had  hard  work  to  restrain  herself  from  saying, 
"She  looks  to  me  as  if  she  were  dreaming  of  her  lover!" 

For  Lisa  steadily  refused  to  disguise  the  fact  that 
she  had  not  given  up  the  man  she  loved.  She  even 
wrote  to  him  sometimes,  and  she  did  so  openly,  always 
telling  Lady  Charlotte  of  the  letter  and  showing  her 
the  envelope.  "I  am  not  a  child,"  she  once  said  stead- 
ily, "I  am  over  age,  and  I  can  do  as  I  like."  Where- 
upon Lady  Charlotte  ceased  to  mention  the  subject; 
but  she  felt  with  intolerable  bitterness,  that  if  Lisa  had 
loved  her  more,  she  would  have  been  more  tolerant  of 
her  wishes.  Discussion  died  down,  but  the  feeling  of 
resentment  on  the  one  side  and  resistance  on  the  other, 
remained  alive. 

When  the  gay  winter  was  over,  and  spring  was  melt- 
ing into  summer,  Lady  Charlotte  and  her  husband  held 
a  consultation.  Mr.  Byng  was  pining  for  his  orchids, 
Lady  Charlotte  for  her  farm  and  her  literary  work; 
both  wanted  the  comforts  of  Westhills,  and  repined  at 
the  prospect  of  another  winter  abroad.  "Surely  she 
has  got  over  her  infatuation  by  this  time!"  said  Mr. 
Byng. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it:  she  is  more  besotted  than  ever. 
And  the  man  had  the  impudence  to  send  her  his  poems 
the  other  day,  dedicated  'To  Lisa!'  Dorian  published 
them:  I  am  amazed  that  Dorian  should  accept  such 
trash." 

"You  gave  him  an  introduction  to  Dorian,  did  you 
not,  my  dear?"  said  Mr.  Byng,  not  without  malice.  "I 


144  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

daresay  he  thought  you  would  be  pleased  by  their  ap- 
pearance." 

"It  does  not  much  matter  whether  I  am  pleased  or 
not,  as  far  as  Dorian  is  concerned,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte brusquely.  "I  am  not  going  to  entrust  the  publi- 
cation of  any  other  book  of  mine  to  him.  I  am  sure  he 
swindled  me  tremendously  over  the  last.  But  what 
are  we  to  do  about  Lisa?" 

"You  might  ask  her  to  promise  not  to  meet  him 
again." 

"She  refuses  to  promise  anything.  I  expect  that  she 
will  see  him  as  soon  as  she  can  after  reaching  London. 
One  can't  be  always  chaperoning  her." 

"I  suppose  she  knows  that  we  should  do  nothing  for 
her  if  she  married  him?''  asked  Mr.  Byng  doubtfully. 

"Oh,  dear,  yes,"  was  the  impatient  response.  "What 
a  nuisance  these  love  affairs  are !  I'm  tired  of  threaten- 
ing and  scolding.  Look  what  a  fuss  we  had  to  make 
before  Justin  would  give  up  the  Ellison  girl." 

"I  don't  think  he  gave  her  up  to  please  us,"  said  Mr. 
Byng,  who  had  his  flashes  of  insight.  "I  think  she  re- 
fused to  marry  him  when  she  heard  of  our  opposition — 
that  was  the  impression  he  gave  me." 

"Oh,  fiddlesticks!"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 

"At  any  rate,  Justin  was  very  much  cut  up  about  it." 
And  Mr.  Byng  returned  zealously  to  the  perusal  of  the 
Secolo. 

"The  Ellisons  seem  to  have  cast  a  charm  over  every 
one  they  came  in  contact  with;"  said  his  wife,  some- 
what pettishly.  "I  can't  understand  it — though,  of 
course,  Esther  was  an  attractive  little  thing  in  her 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  145 

way."  She  paused  for  a  moment  with  a  softer  look  in 
her  fine  dark  eyes.  "I  hope  she  is  getting  on  all  right: 
I  have  not  heard  of  her  since  she  left  us.  She  refuses 
to  write  to  Lisa — a  different  way  of  acting  from  her 
brother's — cousin's,  I  mean.  She  had  some  good  in 
her;  and  she  knew  when  to  yield.  Lisa  does  not." 

"Lisa  comes  of  a  family  distinguished  for  strong 
will,"  said  Mr.  Byng  politely. 

"You  may  as  weii  say  obstinacy  and  have  done  with 
it,"  remarked  Lady  Charlotte.  "Well,  let  us  go  back  to 
London.  We  shall  be  in  time  for  the  fag  end  of  the 
season,  at  any  rate.  And  I  don't  suppose  Lisa  will 
do  anything  very  mad:  Ellison  couldn't  support  her, 
and  you  may  depend  upon  it  he  will  not  marry  a  poor 
woman — he's  not  the  sort.'' 

She  made  the  same  remark  to  Lisa,  hoping  that  she 
would  lay  it  to  heart.  But  Lisa  said  nothing,  and  the 
sudden  flush  and  compression  of  lips  that  followed  did 
not  give  Lady  Charlotte  much  information  concerning 
the  workings  of  her  heart. 

In  fact,  Lisa  was  going  through  a  severe  struggle 
with  herself.  She  did  not  want  to  disobey  her  aunt 
and  uncle,  to  whom  she  felt  that  she  owed  affection  as 
well  as  duty;  but  her  whole  soul  had  gone  out  to  Ar- 
thur, and  she  was  all  the  more  attached  to  him  because 
of  their  enforced  separation.  If  she  had  seen  him 
more  frequently,  it  is  possible  that  she  would  have  dis- 
covered the  extent  to  which  he  was  actuated  by  self- 
interest,  even  in  making  love  to  her;  but  she  had  not 
seen  him  since  he  had  left  Westhills,  and  in  the  mean- 
time he  had  written  her  several  impassioned,  poetical 
10 


146  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

letters  which  seemed  to  her  to  be  worthy  of  a  Shelley 
or  a  Keats.  Arthur  Ellison  had  in  truth  a  very  consid- 
erable amount  of  talent;  and  his  letters  to  Lisa  were 
charming.  She  did  not  often  answer  them,  for  she 
would  not  write  in  secret,  and  she  did  not  like  to  vex 
her  aunt  by  writing  too  frequently;  but  now  and  then 
she  sent  him  a  reticent,  simple  little  note,  which,  by  its 
very  reticence,  perhaps  added  fuel  to  Arthur's  flame. 
And  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  as  to  her  duty 
in  the  future.  Did  it  lie  in  obedience,  or  in  love? 
Arthur  said  "In  love,"  and  wrote  passionate  appeals 
to  her  to  be  true  to  herself,  to  her  higher  instincts,  to 
the  claims  of  an  ideal  passion,  such  as  theirs  should  be. 
What  all  these  appeals  amounted  to,  she  could  not  have 
said  exactly.  He  proposed  nothing  definite;  he  did 
notaskher  to  marry  him  out  of  hand,  which  Lisa  would 
at  once  have  consented  to  do;  but  he  made  much 
lamentation  over  his  own  poverty,  and  the  cruelty  of 
the  guardians  who  kept  them  apart.  And  Lisa 
brooded  silently  over  these  letters,  and  wondered, 
night  and  day,  what  she  ought  to  do. 

She  consulted  no  one,  because,  in  her  heart  of 
hearts,  she  knew  that  every  person  of  sense  would  tell 
her  to  obey  Lady  Charlotte,  and  not  hamper  a  man 
who  had  his  way  to  make  in  the  world.  She  was 
dimly  conscious  of  this;  but  her  mind  was  confused 
by  the  false  lights  that  Arthur's  letters  threw  upon  her 
path.  It  sometimes  seemed  to  her  when  she  had  read 
them,  that  ail  her  notions  of  duty  were  inverted;  that 
what  she  naturally  deemed  true  and  beautiful,  Arthur 
called  low  and  base;  that  nothing  was  imperative  but 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  147 

love,  and  the  claims  of  others  upon  one's  consideration, 
regard,  or  obedience  were  as  dust  and  ashes  when 
compared  with  the  claims  of  love.  He  cast  a  glamour 
over  her  eyes,  and  she  saw  only  as  he  bade  her — until 
too  late. 

There  were  two  reasons  why  she  was  glad  to  leave 
Italy.  For  one  thing  Lady  Charlotte  had  committed 
the  error  in  tactics  of  bringing  prominently  forward  a 
suitor  for  her  niece's  hand,  and  a  suitor  whom  Lisa 
especially  disliked.  He  was  a  middle-aged,  uninterest- 
ing man  of  enormous  wealth,  and  he  was  quite  bent 
upon  marrying  Lisa  who  thought,  not  unnaturally,  that 
if  she  cculd  get  away  from  Rome,  she  would  leave  him 
behind.  But,  as  she  soon  discovered,  Mr.  Greville 
was  determined  to  follow  up  the  chase  in  London,  and 
there  was  no  escape  that  way.  Her  other  reason  lay 
in  the  fact  that  during  the  last  month  or  two  of  her 
stay  in  the  Eternal  City,  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  change 
had  come  over  Arthur's  letters.  They  were  no  longer 
so  poetical  as  they  had  been,  nor  so  ardent,  nor  so 
long.  He  excused  himself  by  saying  that  he  was  ex- 
tremely busy:  he  had  obtained  some  important  com- 
missions, and  was  gaining  quite  a  large  connection  in 
the  literary  world.  He  added  something  that  Lisa  did 
not  altogether  understand  about  his  publisher,  and  his 
publisher's  daughter,  a  lady  of  very  literary  tastes. 
But  what,  Lisa  wondered,  had  Arthur  to  do  with  the 
daughter  of  his  publisher? 

The  Byngs  had  a  house  in  Mayfair,  which  they  had 
intended  to  occupy  until  the  end  of  the  season.  And 
it  was  not  long  before  Lisa  and  Arthur  Ellison  found 


148  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

a  way  of  meeting,  even  under  Lady  Charlotte's  angry 
eyes.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  make  a  scene  when 
Arthur  came  up  to  them  at  a  private  view,  lifted  his 
hat  to  her,  and  shook  hands  with  Lisa.  Audacity  was 
the  best  protection.  Lisa  greeted  her  lover  with  a  shy 
smile  and  allowed  him  to  sit  beside  her  on  a  red  velvet 
settee,  whispering  soft  nothings  into  her  ears,  while 
Lady  Charlotte  frowned  in  impotent  wrath  and  could 
not  possibly  interfere.  There  was  one  other  meeting, 
also,  when  Lady  Charlotte  was  not  present,  and  Lisa 
was  accompanied  only  by  her  maid:  a  meeting  in  the 
park,  which  had  in  the  long  run  a  very  important 
result. 

Lisa  was  troubled  and  shed  tears.  Her  aunt  had 
been  extremely  displeased  with  her:  Mr.  Greville  was 
importunate,  and  even  Mr.  Byng  had  gone  over  to  Mr. 
Greville's  side.  She  could  not  bear  it  much  longer, 
she  said;  yet  what  was  she  to  do? 

"There  is  only  one  thing,  my  darling,"  Arthur  said. 
"When  life  gets  unbearable,  you  must  come  to  me." 

"But  we  have  no  money:  we  could  not  live." 

"I  am  making  a  fair  income,  now,"  said  Arthur, 
which  was  not  quite  true,  unless  one  could  call  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty  pounds  for  sub-editing  a  paper,  and 
a  few  small  sums  for  short  stories  and  poems,  a  fair  an- 
nual income.  "And  I  suppose,"  he  added,  tentatively, 
"that  if  we  were  actually  married,  your  people  would 
come  round  and  do  something  for  us." 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Lisa.  "Aunt  Charlotte 
has  told  me  over  and  over  again,  that  I  should  have 
nothing  if  I  married  you.'' 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  149 

"That's  awkward,"  Arthur  muttered  to  himself. 

"Do  you  mind  so  much?"  Lisa  murmured,  with  her 
ungloved  fingers  twitching  a  little  in  his  hand.  They 
were  sitting  on  a  bench  under  the  trees  in  a  retired 
corner;  and  the  maid  was  discreetly  absorbed  in  a 
Family  Herald  romance,  though  not  perhaps  quite  un- 
observant of  the  romance  which  was  going  on  under 
her  eyes.  Arthur  gave  the  slender  fingers  a  careless 
pressure,  and  answered  promptly. 

"Only  for  your  sake,  dearest!  I  could  not  bear  to 
see  you  submitting  to  the  discomforts  and  privations 
of  poverty." 

"If  it  is  only  for  my  sake,  then,  it  does  not  matter," 
said  Lisa,  radiant  once  more ;  and  Arthur  laughed  and 
caressed  her,  with  distinct  pleasure  in  outwitting  Lady 
Charlotte,  but  an  equally  distinct  impression  that  his 
love  for  Lisa  was  on  the  wane. 

It  had  been  a  pretty  distraction  while  it  lasted.  But 
for  Lady  Charlotte's  opposition  it  would  never  have 
lasted  so  long.  He  had  been  stimulated  to  persevere 
by  Lady  Charlotte's  anger,  her  insults  and  her  threats. 
Lisa  was  not  piquante  enough  to  keep  him  faithful; 
she  was  too  sweet,  too  gentle  for  him.  Her  tone  of 
mind  was  tiresomely  elevated ;  he  had  to  be  very  care- 
ful what  he  said  to  her,  and  no  one  could  go  on  talking 
Shelley  forever.  Even  her  beauty,  he  thought,  had  de- 
teriorated. The  slight  thinness,  the  liquid  look  of  her 
sweet  eyes,  the  transparent  shadows  about  her  mouth 
and  temples,  which  had  given  the  etherealized  expres- 
sion of  which  the  painters  had  raved  at  Florence  and 
Rome  were  not  particularly  admirable  in  Arthur's  esti- 


150  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

mation.  He  wanted  something  more  fleshy  and  ma- 
terial. But  as  long  as  he  could  annoy  Lady  Charlotte 
by  his  courtship  of  Lisa,  so  long  would  he  continue  it 
— unless  indeed,  it  became  inconvenient  in  other  ways. 

"Tell  Lady  Charlotte,"  he  said  to  Lisa  before  they 
parted,  "that  she  has  me  to  reckon  with,  that  I  am  al- 
ways ready  to  be  your  protector,  my  darling." 

He  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  and  wondered  a  little  why 
he  had  gone  such  lengths  in  his  admiration  for  her 
among  the  Surrey  hills:  he  supposed  that  the  fresh  air 
and  the  pleasant  surroundings  had  made  him  think  her 
prettier  than  she  really  was.  Certainly  she  was  very 
pale,  and  looked  worn  and  fatigued:  it  was  rather  a 
pity  that  she  did  not  marry  Greville  after  all.  He  him- 
self was  growing  tired  of  the  comedy ;  and  he  yawned 
over  the  thought  of  it  as  he  went  back  to  Kensington. 

For  a  beginner,  he  was  doing  fairly  well.  He  had 
pleasant  enough  rooms,  and  knew  how  to  economize 
with  discretion.  He  did  not  approve  of  running  into 
debt,  nor  of  seeming  poor.  He  liked  to  keep  up  a  cer- 
tain appearance,  yet  not  to  spend  his  whole  income. 
With  such  admirably  prudent  sentiments,  he  was  likely 
to  get  on.  Yet  in  his  walk  to  Kensington  that  day,  he 
admitted  that  he  had  been  rather  rash  in  his  expres- 
sions of  tenderness,  and  sincerely  hoped  that  Lisa  un- 
derstood men  well  enough  not  to  take  him  at  his  word. 
"Let  us  hope  she  will  not  insist  on  marrying  me,"  he 
said  to  himself  lightly.  "I  shall  really  have  to  find  a 
way  of  explaining  to  her  that  I  cannot  marry  her;  it 
would  be  suicide  for  me  to  marry  unless  my  wife  brings 
me  an  income." 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  151 

On  reaching  home  he  found  a  note  from  his  pub- 
lisher, which  pleased  him  very  much.  Mr.  Dorian  in- 
vited him  to  join  his  family  party  in  Kent  from  Satur- 
day to  Monday:  he  mentioned  that  his  daughter  was 
a  great  admirer  of  Mr.  Ellison's  poems,  and  would  be 
pleased  to  renew  the  acquaintance  which  he  had  made 
with  him  some  weeks  previously.  This  was  the  Miss 
Dorian  of  whom  Arthur  had  spoken  in  a  letter  to  Lisa. 
She  was  thirty-eight  years  old,  tall,  thin,  managing,  but 
with  a  sentimental  turn:  Arthur  had  a  strong  impres- 
sion that  he  might  marry  her  if  he  liked,  and  that  she 
would  bring  her  husband  a  substantial  dowry.  "I 
might  do  worse  than  think  of  it,"  he  reflected,  as  he 
wrote  an  acceptance  of  Mr.  Dorian's  invitation. 

Then  he  sat  down  to  a  book  which  he  had  begun  to 
write,  and  in  which  he  was  greatly  interested.  In  the 
evening  he  looked  in  at  the  Empire,  and  amused  him- 
self; but  when  he  went  home,  he  set  to  work  again. 
Sleep  did  not  actually  come  to  him  until  late;  and  on 
this  particular  night  it  did  not  seem  inclined  to  visit 
his  eyelids  at  all.  After  a  time  he  rose  from  his  bed, 
lighted  a  lamp,  and  took  from  a  drawer  a  bottle  of 
clear-colored  liquid,  of  which  he  took  a  considerable 
dose.  He  had  begun  to  look  upon  a  bottle  of  chloral 
as  one  of  his  greatest  consolations  in  life,  and  laughed 
at  the  idea  that  there  was  danger  in  the  practice  of  tak- 
ing narcotics. 

On  the  Saturday  he  went  down  to  Mr.  Dorian's 
house,  and  found,  as  he  expected,  that  Miss  Dorian  of  a 
decidedly  "coming  on''  disposition.  He  .laughed  at 
her  in  private,  but  he  was  quite  ready  to  respond  to 


152  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

her  advances.  He  lounged  with  her  in  the  garden, 
read  poetry  sitting  at  her  feet,  turned  over  music  for 
her,  all  with  such  assiduity  that  Miss  Dorian  credited 
him  with  keenest  appreciation  of  her  charms  and  tal- 
ents. By  Sunday  evening,  if  he  were  not  exactly  en- 
gaged to  her,  he  was  so  far  committed  that  he  felt  his 
position  serious.  "I  must  think  over  this,"  he  said  to 
himself,"  before  I  go  any  farther:  if  it  were  to  come 
to  old  Dorian's  ears  that  I  was  making  love  to  Lady 
Charlotte  Byng's  niece,  while  I  flirted  with  his  daugh- 
ter, there  would  be  the  devil  to  pay." 

So  he  drew  back  a  little,  sighed  a  good  deal,  and 
mourned  over  the  poverty  that  would  not  permit  him 
to  marry. 

It  did  not  escape  his  notice,  for  Arthur's  blue  eyes 
were  keen — that  Mr.  Dorian  and  the  three  younger 
daughters  were  all  quite  anxious  to  encourage  his  at- 
tentions to  "dear  Fanny."  It  is  not  a  good  sign  when 
a  whole  family  so  distinctly  wants  one  of  its  members 
to  be  out  of  its  way.  Arthur  debated  the  matter  with 
himself  and  took  warning.  Still  he  was  of  opinion 
that  a  stalled  ox  was  infinitely  preferable  to  a  dinner 
with  herbs,  and  love  might  be  left  out  of  the  question. 

"My  daughters  think  very  highly  of  your  verses,  Mr. 
Ellison,"  the  publisher  said  to  him  on  Sunday  night,  as 
he  passed  the  whisky  and  hot  water  to  his  guest.  "I 
hope  the  public  will  do  the  same." 

"I  am  afraid  the  public  will  not  be  so  lenient  as 
your  daughters,"  said  Arthur  politely. 

"They  are  not  usually  lenient,  I  assure  you:  Fanny 
is  by  way  of  being  quite  a  critic/'  said  Mr.  Dorian, 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  153 

wagging  his  gray  head.  "She  says  that  she  is  sure  of 
your  ability,  that  you  ought  to  make  a  great  reputation. 
I  have  a  good  deal  of  confidence  in  Fanny's  judg- 
ment." 

"I  have  thought  lately  of  launching  into  prose,"  said 
Arthur,  with  a  touch  of  nervousness  in  his  manner. 

"Fiction?" 

"No,  not  fiction.  The  fact  is,"  said  the  young  man, 
with  engaging  frankness,  "I  came  into  contact  a  good 
deal  at  one  time  of  my  life  with  members  of  the  old 
Blundell  family,  and  studied  their  records  and  papers 
with  great  interest.  They  gave  me  every  facility,  and 
I  was  much  delighted  with  what  I  found." 

"Ah,  indeed.  Let  me  see — the  Blundell  family:  it 
is  nearly  extinct,  is  it  not?" 

"Lady  Charlotte  Byng  and  her  niece,  Miss  Daubeny, 
are  the  only  representatives,  I  believe." 

"There  is  always  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  about  old 
Lord  Belfield's  memoirs,"  said  Mr.  Dorian.  "But 
Lady  Charlotte  refuses  to  publish  them  at  present." 

"I  believe  I  could  supply  a  good  deal  of  what  would 
be  most  interesting  to  the  public,"  said  Arthur,  lower- 
ing his  voice. 

"I  should  be  glad  to  see  anything  of  the  kind  that 
you  may  attempt,"  said  Mr.  Dorian,  cautiously;  but 
Arthur  felt  that  his  words  almost  implied  acceptance 
of  the  manuscript,  and  he  was  satisfied. 

He  did  not  get  back  to  London  until  late  on  Monday 
afternoon,  and  as  he  went  upstairs  to  his  rooms  he  was 
indulging  in  a  secret  debate  with  himself  as  to  whether 
he  had  become  accidentally  engaged  to  Miss  Dorian  or 


154  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

not,  when  his  landlady  intercepted  him  on  the  landing 
with  a  mysterious  air. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  she  said,  "but  I  suppose 
you  know  that  there's  a  young  lady  waiting  for  you  in 
your  room." 

"What?"  said  Arthur. 

"I  thought  it  might  be  your  sister,  sir,  seeing  as  your 
'air  and  eyes  is  a  good  deal  alike,"  said  Mrs.  Pearson 
deferentially,  "but  she  says  not.  Says  she's  your  young 
lady,  sir,  and  has  been  here  ever  since  eight  o'clock 
this  morning." 

Arthur  felt  a  sudden  chill.  It  couldn't  be  Esther, 
whom  he  seldom  saw :  surely  it  was  not  Lisa,  escaped 
from  the  trammels  of  home  life  by  sudden  freak  of 
willfulness!  He  turned  pale  at  the  thought,  but  had 
the  prudence  to  say  a  reassuring  word  to  his  land- 
lady. 

"It's  all  right,  Mrs.  Pearson:  I  expected  her  to-day, 
but  not  quite  so  early.  I  hope  you  will  make  us  a 
cup  of  tea,"  he  said  in  his  most  ingratiating  manner: 
and  then  he  strode  forward  and  hastily  opened  the  sit- 
ting-room door. 

It  was  Lisa  who  sat  by  the  open  window,  and  rose  to 
greet  him  with  appealing  hands  and  eyes. 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  155 

CHAPTER  XII. 

HER   OWN   CHOICE. 

"Lisa!  What  brings  you  here?"  said  Arthur,  in  real 
dismay. 

He  foresaw  endless  complications.  But  there  was 
perhaps  some  explanation  possible:  he  must  wait  for 
it  without  frightening  her.  She  was  already  pale: 
she  had  grown  paler  at  his  tone. 

"Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me,  Arthur?"  she  said, 
pathetically.  Her  eyes  were  red,  he  noticed,  and  the 
handkerchief  that  had  fallen  to  her  feet  was  wet  with 
her  tears. 

"I  am  always  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said  hypocritically, 
"but  you  look  as  if  you  were  in  trouble  of  some  kind, 
and  it  distresses  me  to  see  you  like  that.  What  is  the 
matter?" 

He  kissed  her  as  he  spoke,  but  in  rather  a  per- 
functory manner,  and  led  her  back  to  her  seat  instead 
of  holding  her  to  him  in  the  close  embrace  which  Lisa 
had  perhaps  expected.  The  coldness  of  his  manner 
made  her  evidently  nervous.  She  began  in  a  timid 
voice: 

"It  was  so  unfortunate  that  you  were  out  this  morn- 
ing: I  left  home  quite  early,  hoping  to  find  you " 

"You  left  home— left  Brook  Street?" 

"Yes,  and  for  ever,"  said  Lisa,  her  eye  suddenly  dilat- 
ing, her  cheek  suffused  with  color.  "I  have  come  to 


156  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

you:  you  told  me  to  come  if  life  became  intolerable. 
I  could  bear  it  no  longer." 

"My  dear  child,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  not 
going  back?'  said  Arthur,  laughing  uneasily.  "What 
nonsense!  I  will  give  you  some  tea  and  then  get  a 
cab  for  you:  you  will  reach  Brook  Street  in  time  to 
dress  for  dinner." 

"You  don't  understand,"  said  Lisa.  "I  can  never  go 
back.  I  left  a  letter  for  Aunt  Charlotte,  telling  her 
I  had  gone  to  you  and  that  we  were  going  to  be  mar- 
ried. I  can  stay  with  Esther  for  a  few  days,  if  you 
like:  I  thought  we  should  have  plenty  of  time  to  ar- 
range things  if  I  came  early.  I  never  imagined  that 
you  would  be  out  of  town." 

"Are  you  out  of  your  senses,  Lisa?" 

"No,"  she  answered  with  a  look  of  surprise.  "You 
told  me  to  come,  did  you  not?  If  things  grew  too 
bad  to  be  borne?  Aunt  Charlotte  and  I  had  a  great 
quarrel  last  night.  A  Mr.  Greville  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  and  I  refused;  and  then  my  uncle  and  aunt  were 
both  very  angry,  and  Aunt  Charlotte  told  me  that  I 
must  either  marry  Mr.  Greville  or  go  away  into  York- 
shire, to  live  with  an  old  governess  of  mine.  They 
would  not  keep  me  in  their  house  any  longer,  unless 
I  did  what  they  wished.  Aunt  Charlotte  said  I  was 
going  too  far — that  they  must  put  a  stop  to  my  meet- 
ing you:  so  I  said  that  they  should  have  no  further 
trouble:  I  was  of  age  and  could  do  as  I  pleased,  and 
I  would  leave  their  house." 

"And  what  did  they  say  to  that?"  said  Arthur.  He 
was  standing  beside  her,  with  one  hand  on  her 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  157 

shoulder,  in  a  caressing  fashion,  but  his  brows  were 
contracted  and  his  eyes  were  singularly  cold. 

"They  said  that  I  was  at  liberty  to  go  my  own  way, 
but  that  I  must  not  expect  any  help  or  assistance  from 
them.  I  said  I  expected  nothing,  and  I  would  wish 
them  good-bye  and  go  as  soon  as  I  could  get  my  things 
ready.  And  then,  Arthur,  a  most  extraordinary  thing 
happened " 

"What?" 

"My  aunt  Charlotte — you  know  how  hard  she  seems, 
how  indifferent? — I  never  thought  that  she  cared  for 
me  particularly.  But  she  must  have  cared  a  little,  for 
she  suddenly  burst  out  crying  and  walked  out  of  the 
room.  I  ran  after  her,  feeling  as  if  I  must  yield,  must 
do  anything  she  wanted,  rather  than  make  her  cry — 
for,  after  all,  she  has  been  very  good  to  me — but  she 
waved  me  back — would  not  speak  to  me,  and  went 
upstairs  with  her  handkerchief  pressed  to  her  eyes. 
So,  after  that " 

"Yes!    After  that?" 

"There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  come  away. 
It  was  either  banishment  or  marriage  to  Mr.  Greville. 
There  was  no  alternative;  so,  Arthur,  I  came  to  you." 

Like  Lady  Charlotte,  in  whose  tears,  however,  Ar- 
thur scarcely  believed,  Lisa  began  to  cry,  and  Arthur 
was  obliged  to  devote  himself  for  some  minutes  to  the 
task  of  soothing  her  and  of  making  her  drink  the  tea 
which  Mrs.  Pearson  sent  up,  before  conversation  could 
be  renewed. 

His  mind  was  in  a  ferment.  A  few  months — even 
a  few  weeks — earlier,  he  would  have  shrugged  his 


158  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

shoulders  and  bowed  to  the  inevitable.  That  is  to  say, 
he  would  have  married  Lisa  as  soon  as  the  prelimi- 
naries could  be  settled,  and  trusted  to  Lady  Charlotte's 
real  generosity  of  nature  to  provide  means  for  a 
menage.  But  now — he  had  other  views.  The  chance 
of  marrying  a  fairly  wealthy  woman  was  before  him, 
and  his  fancy  for  Lisa  sank  into  insignificance  beside 
the  prospect  of  bettering  his  position  in  the  world. 
"One  can't  be  sentimental,"  he  reflected.  "My  whole 
future  depends  on  making  her  understand  the  situa- 
tion. Fortunately  matters  have  not  yet  gone  too  far. 
But  it  is  rather  awkward  to  have  to  explain  them. 
Girls  ought  to  understand!''  And  a  dull  rancor 
against  Lisa  began  to  rise  in  his  mind:  she  presented 
herself  to  him  merely  as  an  obstacle  to  his  future  plans. 

"Now,  Lisa,"  he  said,  when  she  had  drunk  the  tea, 
"let  us  have  a  little  talk  together.  Have  you  any 
plans?'' 

She  looked  at  him  helplessly.  "You  told  me  to 
come,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "So  I  thought 

"Yes,  yes,  to  apply  to  me  in  any  trouble  or  perplex- 
ity: that  would  have  been  all  right.  But  of  course  I 
expected  a  letter  or  a  telegram  Erst.  You  see,  we  have 
arranged  nothing:  you  can't  sfay  here,  and  I  suppose 
you  have  no  friends  that  could  take  you  in." 

"I  have  some  money  with  me,"  she  said,  her  color 
rising,  "I  had  twenty  pounds  saved  out  of  my  allow- 
ance; and  this  morning  I  found  an  envelope  pushed 
under  my  door  with  a  cheque  for  a  hundred  pounds — 
from  uncle  Howard;  so  you  see,  he  was  kind  after 
all.  I  don't  suppose  Aunt  Charlotte  knew  what  he 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  159 

had  dene.  I  thought  that  I  could  go  to  a  hotel  or  a 
boarding-house  until " 

"Until  you  have  made  your  peace  with  your  rela- 
tions and  they  have  taken  you  back  again,"  said  Ar- 
thur. "That  is  the  only  thing  possible,  Lisa.  It 
would  not  be  right  for  me  to  advise  anything  else." 

"It  is  a  little  late  for  you  to  advise  it,"  said  Lisa, 
smiling  anxiously.  "I  have  broken  with  them  com- 
pletely. For  your  sake,  Arthur." 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  not  worth  such  a  sacrifice.  Surely, 
there  was  some  way  out  of  your  difficulties — some 
modus  vivendi  — without  doing  a  thing  which  will 
cause  such  a  terrible  scandal!  To  come  straight  to 
me!  It's  a  thing  unheard  of!  Why  not  have  gone 
to  the  old  lady  in  Yorkshire  for  a  few  weeks?  The 
Greville  business  would  have  blown  over,  and  you 
could  have  made  it  up  with  the  Byngs." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  mouth  quivering,  and 
her  eyes  full  of  tears.  "Arthur,  I  thought  you  would 
oe  so  glad  to  see  me!  You  so  often  said " 

She  could  not  go  on,  and  Arthur  made  an  impa- 
tient movement  as  he  replied:  "I  may  be  glad  to  see 
you  without  wanting  you  to  ruin  yourself  and  me  fol 
the  rest  of  our  respective  lives!" 

"Arthur!  What  do  you  mean?  How  could  I  ruin 
you?" — She  asked  no  questions  about  herself. 

"It  would  ruin  me,"  he  said,  averting  his  eyes  from 
her.  "to  marry." 

There  was  a  short  silence.  He  waited,  not  knowing 
what  else  to  say,  and  greatly  dreading  the  effect  of  his 
words  upon  her  mind.  He  dared  not  look  at  her, 


160  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

and  was  relieved  when,  with  a  great  effort,  she  began 
to  speak. 

"Why  did  you  talk  to  me  of  marriage  then?''  she  said. 
It  did  not  sound  like  a  reproach,  for  her  voice  was  very 
gentle.  But  it  made  Arthur  wince. 

"I  meant — at  some  future  time — when  I  was  better 
off.  You  see,  Lisa,  what  is  enough  for  one  is  not 
enough  for  two.  I  could  not  undertake  the  responsi- 
bilities of  marriage  in  my  present  circumstances.  It  is 
quite  out  of  the  question." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  her  face  clearing,  "but  you  are  get- 
ting on — you  are  doing  well:  you  have  often  told  me 
so.  Before  very  long  you  will  be  able  to  carry  out 
all  your  plans.  I  can  wait  for  you,  Arthur:  I  will 
gladly  wait." 

"You  were  waiting  at  home,"  he  said,  a  certain 
hardness  coming  into  his  voice.  "How  have  you 
mended  matters  by  coming  away?" 

"I  have  shown  them  at  home — that  my  mind  is 
made  up/'  she  said,  with  a  little  catch  in  her  breath. 
"And  it  is  better  for  me  to  be  away  from  them :  I  want 
to  learn — to  work — to  live  my  own  life.  Esther  will 
show  me  how.  Let  me  go  to  her — since  we  cannot 
be  married  now — and  she  will  teach  me  all  the  things  I 
ought  to  know." 

"You  might  go  to  her  for  a  time,"  said  Arthur  re- 
luctantly. "But  what  would  be  the  good  of  it?  You 
would  have  to  return — ultimately — to  your  friends." 

He  did  not  know  whether  she  understood.  He 
hated  to  appear  unkind — to  say  harsh  and  unkind 
things  to  her.  He  would  have  liked  to  stand  well 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  161 

with  everybody:  to  be  universally  popular  and  be- 
loved. But  it  was  imperative  that  she  should  under- 
stand that  he  did  not  mean  to  marry  her.  Of  course 
she  must  go  back  to  Lady  Charlotte  Byng. 

"Return — to  my  friends?''  said  Lisa,  very  slowly. 

"Yes,  it  would  be  better." 

"But — if  I  did  not  promise  to  give  you  up " 

"My  dear  Lisa,  let  us  look  things  in  the  face.  It  is, 
as  I  said,  impossible  for  me  to  marry.  It  would  be 
tying  a  mill-stone  round  my  neck:  unless,  of  course, 
I  married  a  rich  woman.  I  am  too  poor  for  the  luxury 
of  a  wife  and — a  home."  He  tried  to  conclude  with  a 
smile,  but  he  was  very  uncomfortable.  It  was  so  dif- 
ficult to  tell  a  woman  who  loved  you  that  you  did 
not  want  to  be  bothered  with  her!  And  especially 
when  she  was  slow  to  comprehend.  He  began  to  feel 
angry  with  her  for  her  stupidity. 

"But  it  will  not  always  be  so,  Arthur?"  she  said, 
soberly  and  quietly,  as  if  trying  to  measure  the  force 
of  his  words. 

"As  far  as  I  can  see — I'm  sure  I  don't  know  when 
the  present  condition  of  things  will  end.  And  uncer- 
tainty of  this  kind  practically  means  that  it  is  useless 
to  look  forward  to  anything  different." 

"But — you  asked  me  to  marry  you,  Arthur!" 

"Then  I  was  a  fool!"  said  Arthur  angrily.  "I  have 
no  means  of  supporting  a  wife,  and  I  ought  never  to 
have  thought  of  marriage.  Your  aunt  was  perfectly 
right;  and  I  should  strongly  advise  you  to  go  back  to 
her  and  marry  Mr.  Greville." 

He  had  said  it  now,  and  he  ventured  to  turn  and  look 
11 


162  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

at  her.  She  was  sitting  erect,  with  her  hands  crossed 
on  her  lap,  her  face  as  white  as  snow. 

"I  see,"  she  said,  in  a  curiously  stifled  voice.  "I 
have  made  a  mistake." 

"We  have  both  made  a  mistake,"  said  Arthur,  im- 
patiently. "And  the  sooner  we  repair  it  the  better. 
Come,  Lisa,  be  sensible.  People  can't  live  on  nothing, 
and  it  would  be  very  selfish  of  me  to  condemn  you  to 
a  life  of  privation  and  poverty.  I  release  you — I  set 
you  free.  Your  best  plan  will  be  to  go  back  at  once 
to  Brook  Street,  tell  Lady  Charlotte  that  you  left  the 
house  in  a  willful  fit,  but  that  you  have  not  the  slightest 
intention  of  marrying  me,  and  let  her  send  at  once  for 
Mr.  Greville." 

"And  you?''  she  said  quietly,  with  a  suspicion  of 
satire  in  her  tone.  "You:  what  will  you  do?  Is 
there  some  one  for  whom  you  will  send?" 

The  question  approached  the  truth  so  perilously 
that  he  was  startled.  He  had  not  given  her  credit 
for  so  much  penetration  of  his  motives.  But  a  glance 
convinced  him  that  she  had  hit  the  mark  by  hazard 
rather  than  of  deliberate  intention;  for  she  proceeded 
hurriedly: 

"Forgive  me!  That  was  an  ungenerous  thing  to 
say.  But  I  understand  now  what  you  mean.  Every- 
thing is  at  an  end  between  us,  and  I  will  not  stay  here 
any  longer." 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  pale  but  perfectly  composed. 
Arthur  looked  at  her  with  distrust.  He  would  have 
been  better  satisfied  if  she  had  wept. 

"You  must  see  that  I  am  driven  only  by  necessity 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  163 

to  this  decision,"  he  said  lamely.  "It  is  entirely 
against  my  will." 

She  said  nothing,  but  rose  from  her  seat,  and  took 
up  her  hat,  which  lay  on  a  side-table.  Her  fingers 
trembled  as  she  pinned  it  into  its  place  on  her  shining 
hair,  but  no  sound  escaped  her  lips.  Arthur  brought 
her  her  cloak:  she  signed  him  to  put  it  down  upon  the 
sofa.  He  felt  a  pang  of  shame  at  seeing  that  she 
would  not  accept  even  this  small  courtesy  from  his 
hands. 

"You  don't  forgive  me,  Lisa,"  he  said  reproach- 
fully. 

Then  she  found  words.  "You  mistake.  It  is  that 
I  cannot  forgive  myself.  I  do  not  want  to  trouble  you: 
I  will  go  as  quickly  as  I  can." 

"Shall  I  send  for  a  cab?"  said  Arthur,  falling  back 
a  pace  or  two.  He  was  irritated  by  her  tone. 

"Yes.  At  least — does  Esther  live  near  you?  I  am 
going  to  her.  You  must  give  me  her  address.'' 

"Indeed,  I  shall  not!  You  are  going  back  to  Lady 
Charlotte's  in  Brook  Street." 

"That  is  quite  impossible.  She  would  not  take  me 
in." 

"She  must  take  you  in.  I  will  go  with  you  and  ex- 
plain. Or,  I  will  go  first,  if  you  like,  and  then  come 
back  for  you." 

Lisa's  pale  smile  abashed  him  for  once  in  his  life. 
"You  do  not  suppose  that  you  would  be  admitted, 
do  you?" 

"Oh,  then,  confound  it!     I  will  write!" 

"You  will  not  write,  you  will  let  me  do  as  I  choose," 


164  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

said  Lisa,  in  a  vibrating  tone  which  had  the  very  ring 
of  Lady  Charlotte's  voice.  "Do  you  suppose  for  one 
moment  that  I  am  going  back  to  them,  to  say  that  the 
man  I  loved,  and  who,  I  thought,  loved  me,  has  cast 
me  off  already?"  She  paused,  and  then  said  with 
biting  emphasis,  "I  would  die  first." 

Arthur  cowered,  as  if  she  had  struck  him.  It  flashed 
across  his  mind  that  this  gentle  Lisa  was  not  so  gentle 
as  she  seemed.  Sometimes  she  had  presented  herself 
to  his  mind  as  actually  insipid.  But  she  had  the  Blun- 
dell  blood  in  her  after  all:  the  blood  that  ran  in  the 
veins  of  the  audacious  old  statesman,  Lord  Belfield;  of 
his  beautiful  and  celebrated  daughter,  the  Countess  of 
Muncaster;  of  Mrs.  Daubeny,  her  mother,  the  sister 
of  Lady  Charlotte  Byng.  Injure  her,  insult  her,  and 
the  proud  spirit  showed  itself.  After  all,  the  girl  who 
had  chosen  her  lover  and  held  to  him  in  Lady  Char- 
lotte's despite,  who  had  left  her  kinswoman's  home 
sooner  than  give  him  up,  and  now  refused  indignantly 
to  confess  to  the  world  that  she  was  a  woman  scorned 
— this  was  not  a  girl  whom  any  man  need  call  spirit- 
less or  insipid. 

Arthur  Ellison  felt  this  quality  in  her,  and  suddenly 
shivered  as  if,  according  to  the  old  saying,  some  one 
had  walked  over  his  grave.  It  occurred  to  him  for  the 
first  time  that  bad  faith  sometimes  brought  bad  luck. 
He  almost  wished  that  he  had  not  told  her  so  flatly, 
so  insultingly,  that  he  would  not  marry  her.  But  he 
had  never  thought  that  she  would  make  it  a  reason  for 
not  returning  to  her  aunt's  house.  He  stammered  out 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  165 

an  apology,  a  remonstrance,  but  all  in  vain:  she 
turned  from  him  in  quiet  scorn  and  would  not  hear. 

"Esther's  address,"  she  said,  in  such  a  freezing  voice 
of  command  that  he  felt  himself  forced  to  give  it  to  her, 
although  he  would  have  preferred  very  greatly  to  with- 
hold it.  But  Lady  Charlotte  herself  could  not  have 
assumed  a  more  imperious  tone. 

He  was  glad  to  slip  away  from  her  and  call  a  cab, 
and  he  sent  the  maid  upstairs  to  tell  her  that  it  was 
ready.  When  she  came  down,  closely  veiled,  he  was 
waiting  on  the  step,  and  offered  to  hand  her  to  the 
cab,  but  she  refused  the  aid  with  a.  gesture  of  scorn.  It 
was  a  four-wheeler  and  the  cabman  leaned  from  his 
box  with  a  gruff  " Where  to,  Miss?" 

"For  heaven's  sake,  let  me  come  with  you,"  said 
Arthur,  "and  take  you  back  to  Brook  Street!" 

"I  shall  never  go  back  to  Brook  Street." 

"Lisa " 

"To  you,  I  am  'Lisa'  no  longer,  Mr.  Ellison.  We 
are  strangers." 

"Why  should  I  not  still  be  your  friend?"  said  Ar- 
thur, to  whom  the  dusk  of  the  evening  gave  courage. 
He  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  door  of  the  cab,  and 
tried  to  interpret  the  meaning  of  her  pale,  veiled  face. 
"It  is  not  that  I  have  ceased — ceased — to  care  for  you, 
believe  me " 

"I  do  not  believe  you,"  said  Lisa,  very  distantly  and 
very  coldly.  "My  eyes  are  open  now.  If  you  had 
ever  loved  me,  you  would  not  drive  me  away  from  you 
as  you  have  done  to-day." 


166  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"I  was  a  fool!  Forgive  me:  it  all  came  from  my 
love  and  care  for  you." 

And  for  a  moment,  he  believed  what  he  said. 

"It  is  too  late,"  she  said,  and  he  thought  that  in 
the  semi-darkness  he  could  distinguish  a  smothered 
sob.  "You  spoke  the  truth  and  it  is  too  late  to  con- 
tradict it  now." 

"Then,  for  God's  sake,  go  home,  Lisa!"  he  cried, 
almost  losing  his  self-command.  "Don't  let  me  feel 
that  I  have  spoilt  your  life  in  this  way.  I'd  no  idea 
that  you  would  refuse  to  go  back.  Tell  Lady  Char- 
lotte you  have  never  been  with  me — tell  her  you  threat- 
ened to  come  to  me  out  of  bravado — tell  her  anything 
you  like,  but  go  back — go  back!" 

"I  will  not  go  back,"  she  repeated.  "Take  your 
hand  off  the  door,  Mr.  Ellison,  and  give  your  cousin's 
address  to  the  cabman,  if  you  please.  Good-evening." 

He  was  defeated  and  he  knew  it.  Slowly  and  sul- 
lenly he  withdrew  his  hand,  gave  the  address  to  the 
man,  and  lifted  his  hat  as  the  cab  rolled  away.  For 
some  minutes  he  remained  motionless  upon  the  curb- 
stone, lost  in  thought.  At  last  he  seemed  to  come 
to  a  sudden  determination,  plunged  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  exclaimed  "I'll  do  it!"  in  a  decided  tone. 
In  two  minutes  he  was  seated  in  a  hansom  cab,  on 
its  way  to  Lady  Charlotte's  house  in  Brook  Street. 

"Not  at  home,  sir,"  said  Andrews,  in  a  funereal  voice. 

"I  must  see  Lady  Charlotte,"  Arthur  insisted,  "or 
Mr.  Byng.  I've  special  reasons " 

"Not  at  home,  sir." 

"But  if  you  were  to  take  in  my  name " 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  167 

"Very  sorry,  sir.  I  have  special  orders  not  to  ad- 
mit you,  sir,  if  you  called.  Nor  Miss  Daubeny 
neither,  sir,"  said  Andrews. 

"I'll  write  my  errand  on  my  card " 

"I've  not  to  take  in  any  messages,  sir.  My  Lady 
and  Mr.  Byng  leaves  town  to-morrow  for  the  country." 
And  then  Andrews  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

"By  Jove,  they  are  in  a  rage  with  her,"  thought  Ar- 
thur, with  an  uncomfortable  laugh,  as  he  walked  back 
to  Piccadilly.  "Poor  little  girl!  I'll  write  and  let 
them  know  where  she  is:  no  doubt  there'll  be  a  general 
reconciliation  in  a  day  or  two." 

Meanwhile  Lisa  had  made  her  way  to  Esther's 
lodgings  in  Bloomsbury,  and  having  found  her  at 
home,  alarmed  her  inexpressibly,  by  falling  down  in 
a  dead  faint  as  soon  as  she  was  inside  her  friend's  dingy 
but  hospitable  door. 


168  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CURED. 

Some  days  elapsed  before  Esther  could  get  at  the 
reason  for  Lisa  Daubeny's  sudden  appearance  in  her 
rooms.  The  girl  was  completely  overcome,  in  a  state 
of  collapse  which  baffled  all  her  friend's  attempts  to 
rouse  her,  and  when  Esther,  kneeling  beside  her  bed, 
begged  to  know  what  was  wrong  and  whether  she 
should  send  for  Lady  Charlotte,  all  that  Lisa  seemed 
able  to  do  was  to  weep  gently  and  say  "No,  no,  do  not 
send  for  any  one — I  will  tell  you  by  and  by,"  with  an 
accent  of  such  heart-rending  pathos  and  desolation  that 
Esther  was  afraid  to  trouble  her  more. 

But  on  her  own  responsibility,  she  did  what  she 
could.  She  wrote  a  note  to  Arthur,  of  whose  corre- 
spondence with  Lisa  she  was  aware;  and  she  sent  two 
telegrams  to  Lady  Charlotte  Byng,  one  to  the  Brook 
Street  mansion  and  one  to  Westhills.  To  neither  of 
these  did  she  receive  any  answer,  and,  in  the  mean- 
time, she  summoned  a  doctor,  for  it  seemed  to  her 
that  Lisa  was  very  ill.  The  doctor  looked  grave, 
talked  of  nervous  prostration,  and  possible  injury  to  the 
brain,  recommended  great  quiet  and  care,  and  prom- 
ised to  send  in  a  sick-nurse,  who  would  share  with  Miss 
Ellison  the  burden  of  long-protracted  sick-nursing. 

Esther  was  ready  enough  to  accept  any  burden. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  169 

But  her  funds  and  her  time  were  alike  limited:  she 
had  been  successful  as  a  teacher  and  lecturer,  but 
her  profession  did  not  make  her  rich.  Her  rooms 
too  were  small.  Fortunately  her  landlady  was  a  kind- 
hearted  woman,  and  gave  up  one  of  her  own  apart- 
ments to  Esther's  use,  while  Esther  surrendered  her 
own  to  the  nurse  and  her  patient;  but  on  the  fifth 
day  of  Lisa's  illness  a  change  of  circumstances  was 
brought  about,  and  Esther's  responsibility  was  to 
some  extent  relieved. 

It  was  the  arrival  of  Lady  Charlotte's  man  of  busi- 
ness that  produced  the  change.  He  was  a  little  dried- 
up  old  man,  with  gray  whiskers  and  piercing  gray  eyes 
behind  rather  large  round  glasses;  and  Esther  knew 
him  by  name  as  a  solicitor  of  repute.  He  bowed  cere- 
moniously to  her  as  he  entered  and  was  extremely  po- 
lite, but  she  felt  that  he  was  surveying  her  keenly 
through  his  spectacles.  Perhaps,  from  all  he  had 
heard  of  her,  she  was  not  exactly  the  kind  of  person 
whom  he  had  expected  to  meet. 

Esther's  brilliance  was  dimmed.  She  had  lost  the 
crimson  of  her  cheek,  the  ruby  color  from  her  lips :  her 
face  was  thinner,  her  dark  eyes  more  deeply  hollowed. 
Even  her  curls  were  combed  and  pinned  with  neatness, 
and  the  plain  black  dress,  which  did  not  suit  her  brown 
complexion,  was  relieved  only  by  the  primmest  pos- 
sible line  of  white  at  the  neck  and  wrists.  Red  and 
yellow  were  Esther's  natural  hues  in  dress;  the  life 
and  color  seemed  to  die  out  of  her  when  she  took  to 
black  and  white.  But  the  keen  intellectual,  look  was 
intensified:  the  cleverness  of  her  face  was  more  ap- 


170  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

parent  than  ever,  and  Mr.  Furnival  noted  it  with  con- 
siderable interest.  "Brains  rather  than  beauty,"  he 
commented  to  himself,  "and  that  was  how  she  caught 
poor  Justin's  fancy,  I  suppose.  Still,  I  should  have 
thought  Justin  had  an  eye  for  a  pretty  girl,"  he  added 
in  some  perplexity;  not  having  seen  Esther  in  her 
glorified  days. 

"I've  come  on  an  embassy  from  the  Lady  Charlotte 
Byng,"  said  the  little  lawyer.  "Or  scarcely  an  em- 
bassy, perhaps :  more  for  the  sake  of  an  informal  con- 
versation." 

As  Esther  looked  at  him,  she  could  hardly  believe 
in  the  possibility  of  his  doing  or  saying  anything  that 
was  not  formal. 

"You  wrote  to  Lady  Charlotte  a  few  days  ago,  con- 
cerning her  niece,  Miss  Daubeny,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,"  Esther  answered.  "Miss  Daubeny  is  here, 
and  seems  to  be  very  ill;  I  thought  that  her  friends 
ought  to  know." 

"Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Furnival.  "Now  will  you  tell 
me  the  day  and  the  hour  at  which  she  came  to  you, 
Miss  Ellison?" 

Esther  complied,  wondering  why  he  wanted  in- 
formation on  this  point. 

"And  you  know,  I  suppose,  where  she  spent  the 
day?"  insinuated  Mr.  Furnival. 

"I  have  no  means  of  knowing,"  said  Esther.  "She 
has  told  me  nothing." 

"And  you  have  heard  nothing  from  any  one  else? 
You  do  not  know  when  she  left  her  aunt's  house?" 

"No,  I  know  nothing." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  171 

The  lawyer  asked  a  few  questions,  then,  putting  up 
his  note-book  with  a  snap,  he  said,  in  a  more  kindly 
tone: 

"The  fact  is,  Miss  Ellison,  Miss  Daubeny  has  left 
Lady  Charlotte's  house,  in  consequence  of  a  little  dis- 
pute, relative,  I  believe,  to  your  cousin,  Mr.  Arthur  El- 
lison. You  know  probably  that  there  was  some  un- 
derstanding, some  attachment,  between  them?" 

Esther  acknowledged  that  she  knew  so  much. 

'The  Lady  Charlotte,"  said  Mr.  Furnival  in  meas- 
ured tones,  "is  a  lady  of  strong  will,  strong  feelings, 
strong  prejudices,  I  may  say.  She  wished  her  niece 
to  become  the  wife  of  a  Mr.  Greville,  a  gentleman 
eminently  fitted,  in  my  opinion,  to  be  the  husband  of 
Miss  Daubeny,  had  not  Miss  Daubeny  most  unfor- 
tunately contracted  a  great  dislike  to  Mr.  Greville,  a 
dislike  which  no  amount  of  remonstrance  or  reason 
availed  to  remove." 

Esther  smiled:  she  could  not  help  it.  It  did  not 
seem  to  her  that  remonstrances  usually  availed  to  make 
you  like  a  person  whom  you  abhorred.  But  Mr.  Fur- 
nival  did  not  see  the  smile. 

"The  difference  of  opinion  between  the  two  ladies 
became  so  acute,  that  at  last,  an  alternative  was  pre- 
sented to  Miss  Daubeny,"  said  the  old  man  in  his 
old-fashioned  pedantic  way.  "Either  she  must  prom- 
ise to  accept  Mr.  Greville,  or  leave  London  and  stay 
for  a  time  with  a  lady  in  Yorkshire,  a  Miss  Danby " 

"How  could  Lady  Charlotte  be  so  arbitrary — and  so 
absurd!"  said  Esther  sharply. 

Mr.    Furnival   lifted   his    hand.     "My  dear  young 


172  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

lady,  she  thought  she  was  acting  for  the  best.  She 
did  not  expect  that  Miss  Daubeny  would  take  the  mat- 
ter into  her  own  hands,  by  declaring  that  she  should  at 
once  marry  Mr.  Ellison,  and  by  leaving  the  house  next 
morning — presumably  to  go  to  him.'' 

"But — but — she  did  not  go  to  him?"  said  Esther, 
now  considerably  startled. 

'That  we  could  only  conjecture — at  least  until  to- 
day, when  I  made  some  inquiries  at  Mr.  Ellison's  lodg- 
ings. I  did  not  see  Mr.  Ellison  himself;  I  understood 
that  he  was  out  of  town.  A  lady  answering  to  the  de- 
scription of  Miss  Daubeny  was  at  his  rooms  last  Mon- 
day: she  must  have  come  to  you  from  him/' 

"I  do  not  know:  she  fainted  as  soon  as  she  came 
in,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  ask  her  anything." 

"And  Mr.  Ellison  has  not  been  here  to  inquire  after 
her?" 

"No.  I  think  there  must  have  been  some  mistake 
throughout,"  said  Esther.  "For  I  wrote  to  my  cousin, 
thinking  he  might  know  what  had  brought  her  to 
me;  and  he  has  not  even  replied." 

"Ah,  well,  we  shall  know  in  time,"  said  Mr.  Fur- 
nival;  and  then  he  added,  rather  quickly,  "My  er- 
rand to-day,  however,  concerned  practical  matters. 
Of  course  the  family  do  not  wish  you  to  suffer  any 
loss  or  inconvenience  from  Miss  Daubeny's  present 
illness.  It  has  transpired  that  she  had  a  check — con- 
veyed to  her  hands  through  Mr.  Byng's  kindness  of 
heart,  I  believe — but  probably  she  has  not  been  able  to 
use  it.  Do  you  know  if  she  had  it  with  her,  or  any 
other  sum  of  money?" 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  173 

"I  have  not  touched  Miss  Daubeny's  purse  or  other 
possessions,"  said  Esther,  stiffening. 

"It  would  be  well,  perhaps,  if  we  examined  them 
now,"  suggested  Mr.  Furnival. 

Esther  hesitated,  but  thought  that  on  the  whole  it 
would  be  best  to  make  no  objection,  although  she 
very  much  disliked  the  idea  of  an  examination  of 
poor  Lisa's  effects.  It  seemed  as  though  she  were 
already  dead !  However,  she  went  silently  to  the  bed- 
room, and  brought  back  Lisa's  dainty  pocket-book 
and  purse,  which  she  laid  before  Mr.  Furnival,  who 
proceeded  quite  quietly  to  open  them  and  look  at  the 
contents. 

The  check  was  there  untouched;  and  there  were 
twenty  pounds  in  notes  and  some  gold  and  silver  be- 
sides. Mr.  Furnival  coolly  tore  the  check  in  two,  say- 
ing: 

"I  have  Mr.  Byng's  authority  to  leave  behind  me 
the  equivalent  of  this  draft  in  cash,  which  I  am  to 
give  to  you  for  Miss  Daubeny's  present  expenses,  if 
she  is  not  able  to  receive  it  in  person.  I  am  almost 
empowered  to  offer  her  a  sum  of  three  hundred  a  year, 
paid  quarterly,  if  she  will  consent  to  give  up  her  pro- 
ject of  marriage  with  Mr.  Ellison.  Or  at  least,  I 
should  say,  until  she  marries  Mr.  Ellison.  On  the  day 
she  marries  him,  her  allowance  will  cease." 

"I  think  that  a  very  hard  and  unjust  way  of  arrang- 
ing matters,  Mr.  Furnival." 

"Naturally  it  seems  so — to  a  lady,  and  to  one  so 
nearly  connected  with  the  gentleman  in  question.  But 
that  is  the  ultimatum  which  I  bring  from  Lady  Char- 


174  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

lotte  and  Mr.  Byng.  And  I  assure  you  that  Lady  Char- 
lotte has  her  niece's  welfare  very  much  at  heart." 

"Lisa  cannot  answer  for  herself  at  present,"  said 
Esther,  more  quietly.  "So  we  shall  have  to  leave  the 
decision  until  she  is  better." 

"Until  she  is  better,"  said  Mr.  Furnival,  suavely, 
"the  money  will  be  paid  in  advance.  I  am  sorry  to 
trouble  you,  Miss  Ellison,  but  I  was  requested  by 
Lady  Charlotte  to  see  Miss  Daubeny  for  myself " 

"But  she  is  ill — unconscious!" 

"Whether  dying  or  dead,  were  Lady  Charlotte's 
words!" 

"Does  Lady  Charlotte  think  we  are  lying?"  said 
Esther,  in  high  disdain;  but  she  caused  Mr.  Furnival 
to  be  admitted  with  as  little  delay  as  possible  to  the 
darkened  chamber  where  Lisa  lay  faintly  muttering 
to  herself,  with  the  white-capped,  white-bibbed  nurse 
in  attendance. 

Mr.  Furnival  was  visibly  moved  at  the  sight.  "Poor 
girl!  Poor  girl!"  he  said  softly  as  he  withdrew.  "I 
have  known  her  since  she  was  a  baby.  Such  a  pretty 
little  thing!  A  sad  business!" 

Then  he  went  downstairs  again  and  silently  counted 
out  the  money  which  he  had  brought,  only  asking 
Esther  to  give  him  a  formal  receipt.  Something  in 
his  silence,  and  his  grave  looks,  caused  her  to  say,  at 
the  close  of  this  transaction: 

"Lady  Charlotte  may  feel  quite  sure  that  I  shall  do 
all  in  my  power  to  persuade  Lisa  to  go  back  to  her, 
when  she  is  well  enough  to  hear  reason." 

"Ah,  I'm  afraid  it's  too  late,"  said  the  old  man, 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  176 

shaking  his  head.  "Lady  Charlotte  is  not  very  ready 
to  accept  apologies  or  submission  when  they  have 
been  long  delayed.  She  feels  Miss  Daubeny's  conduct 
very  bitterly." 

And  Esther  could  say  no  more. 

As  soon  as  she  was  free,  and  could  leave  the  patient 
with  the  nurse  for  some  time,  she  set  out  resolutely  for 
Kensington.  She  felt  that  she  must  see  Arthur  and 
know  what  had  happened.  But  she  was  unsuccessful 
in  her  quest.  Arthur  was  out  of  town;  and  when  she 
called  again,  she  found  that  he  had  changed  his  lodg- 
ing and  left  no  address.  Possibly  he  thought  it  safer 
to  be  out  of  reach  of  Lisa's  friends  for  a  little  while. 
Esther  began  to  suspect  that  something  unforeseen 
in  the  relations  between  Lisa  and  her  lover  had  oc- 
curred. But  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  wait. 

She  waited;  and  in  time,  Lisa  began  slowly  and 
painfully,  to  recover.  But  for  many  weeks  she  was 
so  unable  to  bear  the  slightest  excitement,  that  Esther 
dare  not  question  her  concerning  the  past.  The  sum- 
mer vacation  came  before  she  was  really  strong;  but 
she  was  able  in  August  to  go  with  Esther  to  a  quiet 
little  sea-side  place,  where  they  could  sit  on  the  beach 
all  day  in  the  sunshine,  and  let  the  breezes  fan  a 
little  color  into  Lisa's  pale  cheeks.  And  it  was  there 
that  Lisa  at  last  spoke  of  Arthur  Ellison. 

"Esther,"  she  said,  very  quietly,  "do  you  ever  hear 
anything  of  your  cousin?" 

"I  have  not  heard  anything  of  him  for  a  good  many 
weeks,"  said  Esther,  laying  down  her  boolc. 

"Not  since  I  was  ill?" 


176  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"No.  And  even  before  that.  I  do  not  know  now 
whether  he  is  in  town  or  not.  He  has  changed  his 
address." 

Lisa  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two;  then,  with 
changing  color  and  in  tremulous  tones,  she  said: 

"I  do  not  remember  very  well  what  happened.  I 
came  to  you  one  evening,  did  I  not?" 

"On  a  Monday  evening,  about  nine  o'clock,  in  May. 
You  fainted  as  soon  as  you  came  into  the  room,  you 
know,  dear,  and  were  unconscious  for  a  long  time 
afterwards." 

"What  trouble  I  have  given  you,''  said  Lisa,  the  soft 
eyes  suddenly  suffused  with  tears.  Then,  after  put- 
ting out  her  hand  to  give  Esther's  an  affectionate 
pressure,  she  said,  "I  think  it  is  time  that  we  should 
talk  things  over  a  little.  There  are  some  things  I 
want  to  ask  you,  and,  perhaps,  I  have  been  thinking, 
there  are  some  that  you  would  like  to  ask  me." 

"Are  you  really  strong  enough  to  bear  it,  Lisa?" 

"Bear  it?  Oh,  yes,"  said  Lisa,  with  perfect  quiet- 
ness. She  even  smiled  a  little  as  she  spoke.  "I  have 
been  longing  to  speak;  but  I  thought  that  you  avoided 
the  subject.  Tell  me  first — has  my  Aunt  Charlotte 
asked  after  me,  or  thought  about  me?" 

Esther  replied  by  telling  of  Mr.  Furnival's  visit,  and 
the  message  that  he  had  brought.  She  even  went  on 
to  mention,  with  bated  breath,  the  condition  attached 
to  the  allowance  that  was  to  be  made  to  her  friend. 
Then  she  was  almost  afraid  to  glance  at  Lisa,  but,  to 
her  surprise,  the  girl  answered  at  once,  in  a  voice 
that  was  perfectly  clear  and  cool: 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  177 

"There  will  be  no  difficulty  about  that.  Every- 
thing is  over  between  Mr.  Ellison  and  myself." 

"But,  Lisa,  when  you  left  Brook  Street " 

"I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,"  said  Lisa 
calmly.  "All  was  not  over  then?  No,  I  left  my  aunt's 
house,  resolving  to  go  to  Arthur's  immediately,  and 
thinking  that  there  could  be  only — at  most — a  few 
days'  delay  before  our  marriage.  I  went  to  his  lodg- 
ings, and  waited  for  him  all  day.  He  came  in  at  last, 
and  I  told  him  why  I  had  come,  It  was  between  six 
and  seven  in  the  evening,  was  it' not?  I  know  it  was 
growing  dark  when  I  came  to  you.'' 

"Lisa,  what  did  he  say?" 

"Don't  vex  yourself,  Esther;  it  is  not  worth  while. 
I  assure  you  he  is  no  more  to  me  now  than  yonder 
fisherman  drying  his  nets,  or  the  passing  tourist  on 
the  quay.  I  lost  my  love  for  him,  I  think,  when  I 
heard  him  tell  me,  that  although  I  had  given  up  my 
home,  my  position,  perhaps  my  reputation,  for  him, 
he  would  not  marry  me." 

"He  wouldn't  marry  you,  Lisa?" 

"He  said  he  was  too  poor;  he  could  not  afford  a 
wife.  He  advised  me  to  go  home  and  marry  Mr. 
Greville." 

"But — he  loved  you!"  cried  Esther,  amazed  and 
disconcerted. 

"He  thought  he  did — once.  His  love  was  not 
strong  enough  to  bear  even  the  prospect  of  poverty/' 
said  Lisa,  in  a  tone  which  was  faintly  indifferent,  faint- 
ly contemptuous,  but  expressive  of  no  deep  feeling 

at  all.    "He  said  that  my  aunt  was  right." 
12 


178  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Lisa!    My  poor  Lisa!" 

"Why  do  you  cry,  Esther?  Don't  you  see  that  it 
was  much  better  that  I  should  find  out  in  time  how 
slight  a  regard  he  had  for  me?  When  you  peril  all 
that  is  dear  to  you  for  the  sake  of  a  man  who  is  ready 
to  cast  you  off  as  an  old  glove — then  you  find  out 
how  much  love  is  worth.  I  am  cured  now;  I  do 
not  care.'' 

"But  it  is  worse  than  all,  if  he  has  taught  you  to 
think  little  of  all  love,"  said  Esther. 

"I  do  not  think  little  of  all  love;  I  am  glad  of 
yours,"  said  Lisa  gently.  "But  I  do  not  want  to  talk 
of  a  man's  love  any  more;  I  think  I  should  be  glad 
if  I  could  never  hear  of  it  again.  Do  not  speak  to 
me  on  the  subject,  if  you  care  for  me,  Esther;  it 
only  gives  me  pain." 

But  she  spoke  dreamily,  listlessly,  as  if  nothing  on 
earth  could  make  her  feel  either  grief  or  joy  again. 
And  Esther  recognized,  with  a  great  pang,  the  fact 
that  in  some  natures  great  sorrow,  a  great  shock  may 
sometimes  numb  or  even  kill  the  inmost  fibres  of  emo- 
tion; so  that  a  person  may  emerge  from  it  perfectly 
cured,  as  we  say,  perfectly  sane,  but  with  no  great 
capacity  of  feeling  anything  any  more.  Was  this 
Lisa's  case?  If  so,  it  seemed  to  Esther  as  if  Arthur 
had  murdered  her  very  soul. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  punish  him!  If  only  I  could 
make  him  suffer!"  she  cried,  vengefully  striking  her 
white  teeth  together  and  clenching  a  small  brown  fist. 
Lisa  looked  at  her  tranquilly  and  smiled. 

"Why  distress  yourself?"  she  said.    "If  he  has  done 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  179 

what  is  wrong,  he  will  suffer,  you  may  be  sure.  We 
all  pay  our  debts.  I  am  paying  mine  now.''  And 
she  looked  out  to  the  heaving  purple  sea,  with  a  curi- 
ous expression  in  her  eyes,  half-pathetic,  and  yet  as 
it  seemed  to  Esther,  half-cynical  over  her  own  pain. 

Esther  was  silent,  thinking  of  the  words  that  had 
been  said.  Were  they  not  very  true?  Was  not  she 
also  paying  her  debt?  Suffering  the  punishment  of 
that  evasion  of  the  truth  from  which  so  many  unlooked 
for  events  came  about?  Justin  Thorold  had  left  Eng- 
land: she  did  not  know  whither  he  had  gone.  She 
thought  it  probable  that  she  should  never  see  him 
again,  and  she  resigned  herself,  as  Lisa  was  doing,  to 
"the  paying  of  her  debt." 

"Lisa/'  she  said  at  length,  almost  timidly,  "you  will 
go  back  to  your  aunt's  house  now,  will  you  not?  I  am 
sure  she  will  be  glad  to  see  you  again." 

Lisa  brought  her  eyes  back  from  the  sea,  and  let 
them  rest  a  while  upon  Esther's  face  before  she  spoke. 
"No,"  she  answered  at  last,  "I  think  not,  Esther." 

"But  why — why  not?" 

"There  was  never  much  sympathy  between  my  aunt 
and  myself,"  said  Lisa  thoughtfully.  "We  were  not 
congenial  to  each  other." 

"But  would  it  not  be  right,  dear,  for  you  to  go 
back?" 

"Would  it?  I  have  thought  of  that.  But  I  don't 
think  I  could.  When  I  think  of  the  way  in  which  I  left 
her  house, — of  the  things  we  said  to  each  other — I 
feel  as  if  it  would,  be  impossible." 


180  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"It  would  be  hard,  I  know,"  Esther  murmured, 
only  half  convinced. 

"And  then,"  said  Lisa,  raising  herself  to  speak  with 
more  animation  and  eagerness  than  usual,  "think  of 
your  own  lessons  to  me  in  the  past,  Esther !  Think  of 
what  you  used  to  tell  me  about  girls  who  worked,  who 
made  a  career  for  themselves,  who  did  something  in 
the  world !  Would  it  not  be  well  for  me  to  remember 
that  teaching  now?" 

"Do  you  think  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge  still,"  fal- 
tered Esther,  her  heart  sinking  within  her. 

"No,  I  have  given  up  that  idea.  But  I  think, 
Esther,  that  if  you  will  let  me,  I  should  like  to  live  side 
by  side  with  you  for  a  time,  seeing  how  you  live,  how 
other  women  live  and  what  they  do  in  the  world.  I 
am  tired  of  seeing  only  rich  people  around  me;  of 
hearing  talk  about  art  and  poetry  and  music ;  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  want  to  get  down  to  the  bare  bones  of  life, 
and  see  what  the  common  people  do.  Will  you  help 
me  to  get  what  I  want?" 

"I  will  help  you  in  anything,"  Esther  said  fervently; 
but  secretly  she  shed  a  few  tears  over  the  disappear- 
ance of  her  beautiful  dream-maiden,  and  the  rising 
from  her  ashes  of  a  sobered,  saddened  woman  who 
wanted  to  know  more  of  the  realities  of  life.  It  seemed 
sad  to  her;  but  perhaps  it  was  not  quite  so  sad  as  it 
seemed. 

So  when  Lisa  was  stronger,  she  went  back  to  Lon- 
don with  Esther,  and  the  two  settled  down  in  the  same 
house,  "side  by  side,"  as  Lisa  had  said ;  but  not  in  the 
same  room.  There  seemed  a  desire  on  Lisa's  part  to 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  181 

assert  and  maintain  that  hardly  won  independence  of 
hers:  she  could  bear  no  restriction  upon  her  liberty: 
she  would  scarcely  tell  Esther  beforehand  what  were 
her  plans  for  the  day.  And  Esther  left  her  perfectly 
free,  knowing  that  she  would  come  to  no  harm:  and 
was  complimented  quarterly  by  Mr.  Furnival  on  the 
discretion  and  completeness  with  which  she  chaper- 
oned Miss  Daubeny. 

Of  Arthur  they  saw  nothing.  He  had  sent  Esther 
his  address,  and  she  had  once  addressed  a  bitter  little 
note  to  him,  but  to  this  he  did  not  reply.  Once  Esther 
heard  that  he  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss 
Dorian ;  but  she  could  not  believe  it  to  be  true.  And 
as  the  report  was  soon  afterwards  contradicted,  she 
never  even  mentioned  it  to  Lisa.  Not  that  she  fancied 
that  Lisa  would  have  been  disturbed.  The  girl  seemed 
placid  and  happy  in  her  new  life ;  and  but  for  a  certain 
restlessness,  a  sort  of  haggard  look  in  her  blue  eyes 
sometimes,  Esther  would  have  thought  that  she  was 
perfectly  content.  But  that  expression  sometimes 
seemed  to  show  that  her  heart  was  not  quite  at  rest. 


182  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PHILANTHROPY. 

Among  the  many  works  on  which  Lisa  cast  passing 
glances  in  her  research  for  the  realities  of  life,  there 
was  one  that  particularly  pleased  her.  It  was  a  club 
(conducted  on  purely  secular  principles)  for  rough 
working  girls,  some  of  them  of  the  lowest  type,  un- 
taught, unkempt,  almost  savage  in  their  appearance, 
but  curiously  responsive  to  kindness,  and  extremely 
affectionate.  The  club  had  been  well  managed  for 
some  years,  but  owing  to  a  recent  change  of  head, 
there  had  lately  been  tumult  and  rebellion  among  the 
members;  and,  as  it  happened,  on  the  night  when  Lisa 
first  visited  the  rooms,  the  disaffection  was  at  its 
height. 

Lisa  never  forgot  the  effect  produced  on  her  by  the 
first  sight  of  these  girls  at  tea  in  the  big  room  where 
they  could  purchase  that  refreshment  for  a  penny. 
The  room  was  close  and  overheated;  the  fumes  of  the 
tea,  the  odor  of  bread  and  butter,  mingled  with  the 
odor  of  humanity,  until  the  atmosphere  was  almost  un- 
bearable. The  girls  in  their  feathered  hats,  with  little 
shawls  over  their  shoulders,  or  ulsters  down  to  their 
feet,  some  with  white  aprons,  others  with  blue  neck- 
laces and  gilt  earrings,  were  drinking  hot  tea  out  of 
their  saucers,  and  talking  at  the  top  of  their  voices, 
though  lowering  them  if  any  of  "the  ladies"  came  near. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  183 

Some  adverse  decision  in  matters  affecting  their  enjoy- 
ment had  just  been  announced;  and  although  the 
judgment  was  a  wise  and  right  one,  it  excited  a  great 
deal  of  adverse  feeling.  Lisa  looked  at  the  flushed 
faces  and  broad  shoulders — for  many  of  the  factory 
girls  were  a  sturdy,  strapping  type — and  wondered 
whether  she  would  ever  get  the  length  of  even  speak- 
ing to  these  young  working  women,  who  were  so  dif- 
ferent from  any  other  persons  she  had  ever  encoun- 
tered in  the  course  of  her  carefully  sheltered  life. 

They  were  girls  like  herself,  but  they  had  never 
known  the  softening  influences  which  had  been 
brought  to  bear  upon  her  all  through  her  two  and 
twenty  years.  They  were  utterly  ignorant,  without 
any  attempt  at  an  ideal  of  conduct,  loud,  rough,  ex- 
perienced in  drunkenness,  in  bad  language,  in  the  ways 
of  the  streets.  Were  there  any  points  of  contact  be- 
tween them?  Any  matters  in  which  they  could  hope 
to  sympathize?  She  felt  vaguely  oppressed  by  the  dis- 
tance, the  difference  between  them. 

Nevertheless,  the  girls  themselves  were  immensely 
attracted  towards  her.  Fond  of  the  shops,  arrayed  in 
ragged  finery,  often  only  too  ready  to  sell  their  very 
souls  for  a  brooch  or  a  bracelet,  they  had  a  great  ap- 
preciation of  Lisa's  pretty  well-made  frock.  Miss 
Daubeny  was  simply  dressed,  but  she  had  not  thought 
of  donning  the  costume  of  somber  black  which  "work- 
ers" so  often  think  necessary  on  similar  occasions. 
She  wore  a  blue  gown  with  a  white  vest,  and  a  hat  with 
a  sparkling  clasp;  one  of  the  pretty  costumes  she 
had  worn  a  good  deal  when  she  was  abroad  the  pre- 


184  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

vious  year.  She  had  taken  off  her  gloves  and  showe'd 
the  pretty  multi-colored  rings  upon  her  white  hands, 
and  the  girls  glanced  at  her  enviously,  and  conversed 
about  her  frock  and  her  jewelry  in  undertones,  while 
one  or  two  of  the  presiding  ladies  said  something  to 
each  other,  with  a  look  of  annoyance,  concerning  the 
folly  of  wearing  ornaments  in  the  presence  of  the  poor. 
Esther,  who  had  brought  Lisa  with  her  to  the  club, 
overheard  the  remark,  but  resolved  not  to  tell  Lisa  of 
it:  her  own  opinion  was  that  if  you  wore  ornaments 
as  a  general  rule,  you  had  better  not  take  them  off 
simply  because  you  were  mixing  with  those  who  were 
poorer  than  yourself. 

Lisa  was  unconscious  of  the  favor  her  attire  had 
gained  her  in  the  eyes  of  the  girls,  and  felt  sadly  help- 
less and  awkward.  By  way  of  doing  something  use- 
ful, she  carried  a  cup  of  tea  to  a  poor  pretty-looking 
girl,  with  a  tired  face  and  a  small  white  baby  on  one 
arm,  who  had  just  entered  the  room  and  seated  her- 
self beside  the  door.  She  looked  so  pinched  and  hun- 
gry that  Lisa  was  amazed  when  she  said  with  a  curt 
sharpness  that  contrasted  strongly  with  her  soft  con- 
tours, 

"No,  thank  yer,  Miss." 

"You  look  so  tired ;  do  have  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  Lisa 
gently.  "I'll  hold  the  baby  for  you  while  you  drink 
it." 

She  had  a  passion  for  babies  and  was  already  eye- 
ing the  little  creature  covetously,  but  the  young 
mother  only  said  more  sharply  still,  "No,  thankee, 
Miss." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  185 

"She  ain't  got  a  penny,  Miss,  that's  what  it  is,"  said 
another  pale  girl  in  Lisa's  ear.  "  'Ere,  Nelly,  I'll  treat 
yer.  Cup  o'  tea  an'  bread  an'  butter  for  Nelly  Hagan, 
Miss,  please,"  she  added,  putting  a  hot  and  sticky 
penny  into  Lisa's  hand;  and  Lisa  went  off  well  pleased 
to  obtain  the  steaming  beverage,  which  Nelly  did  not 
now  refuse. 

Then  Lisa  sat  down  beside  her  and  held  the  baby, 
and  heard  how  this  child  of  seventeen  had  run  away 
from  home  to  be  married  to  "a  bloke''  who  was  nine- 
teen, and  how  he  sometimes  earned  twelve  shillings  a 
week  and  sometimes  nothing  at  all.  And  she  heard 
how  Nelly  had  lost  her  work,  which  was  that  of  a  laun- 
dry-girl, when  the  baby  came,  and  that  when  the  baby 
was  two  months  old  (it  was  now  only  six  weeks)  Nelly 
hoped  to  be  able  to  put  it  out  to  nurse  and  to  get  work 
again. 

To  Lisa,  it  was  more  interesting  than  a  romance. 
She  had  never  before  come  into  contact  with  the  Lon- 
don poor,  and  she  was  struck  with  the  girl's  intelli- 
gence, with  a  sort  of  flower-like  prettiness  in  her  face, 
with  the  pathos  of  the  story.  She  sat  on,  talking  to 
Nelly,  without  perceiving  at  first  that  most  of  the  girls 
had  made  a  sudden  and  violent  rush  for  the  upper 
floor,  and  that  yells  and  cat-calls  were  proceeding  from 
the  upstairs  room  with  rather  an  alarming  effect. 

"They're  a  rough  lot. in  to-night/'  said  Nelly,  with 
an  air  of  superiority.  "I  think  I  must  be  gettin'  'ome; 
my  chap  don't  like  me  to  be  out  after  ten.  Thankee, 
Miss.  I  'ope  we  shall  see  you  another  night  shall  us, 
Miss?" 


186  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Lisa,  quite  gratefully.  "I  shall 
be  glad  to  come." 

"What  are  they  doing?"  pursued  Nelly.  "Are  they 
smashing  the  crockery?" 

For  there  was  a  great  crash  overhead,  and  at  that 
moment  all  the  gas  went  out.  The  girls  had  evidently 
organized  a  rebellion,  and  somebody  had  got  at  the 
gas-meter. 

Lisa  hastened  upstairs  to  find  Esther,  and  see  what 
was  amiss;  and  in  the  hubbub,  Esther  seized  hold  upon 
her  and  drew  her  into  one  of  the  inner  rooms.  It  was 
perfectly  dark,  and  the  noise  of  laughter,  shouts  and 
uproarious  singing  was  appalling. 

"I've  an  idea,"  said  Esther,  rapidly  in  her  friend's 
ear.  "Sing,  Lisa — sing!" 

"How  can,  I  sing  in  all  this  noise?" 

"Begin!    They'll  quiet  down  directly." 

And  Lisa  began. 

She  had  a  sweet,  well-trained  voice  of  considerable 
power  and  compass,  and  some  instinct  made  her 
choose  a  song  which  many  people  would  have  thought 
quite  inappropriate  to  the  occasion — a  plaintive  ballad, 
with  a  lilt  in  it,  which  she  had  often  found  very  suc- 
cessful in  drawing-rooms.  It  was  just  as  successful 
here.  After  the  first  bar  or  two  the  noise  began  to 
slacken:  some  one  called  out,  "Listen  to  the  lydy!" 
and  "'Old  your  jaw!  She's  singin'!"  Before  she  had 
half-finished  the  first  verse,  there  was  absolute  silence 
in  the  room. 

In  the  darkness  when  she  had  finished,  came  a  per- 
fect storm  of  clapping.  As  Lisa  afterwards  found,  a 


THE   LADY  CHARLOTTE.  187 

song  without  accompaniment  would  always  be  lis- 
tened to  with  deference  and  in  silence;  whereas  the 
sound  of  the  piano,  even  with  a  voice,  set  every  tongue 
to  wag  its  loudest  and  fastest.  "Another,  Miss!" 
"Please,  sing  one  more,  lydy!"  "That's  worth  listen- 
ing to,  ain't  it!  Go  on,  Miss!  Go  on,  lydy!"  such  were 
some  of  the  exclamations  that  ran  on  every  side. 

"If  I  sing  again,"  said  Lisa,  by  a  sudden  inspiration, 
"will  you  be  quiet  afterwards  and  do  what  we  wish?" 

"Yes,  yes,  oh  yes!  Sing,  Miss,  and  we'll  be  as  quiet 
as  mice,"  cried  the  voices.  And  in  the  meantime  the 
front  door  was  softly  opened  and  some  of  the  ring- 
leaders made  their  way  into  the  street.  The  ladies 
went  about  the  house  relighting  the  gas.  When  the 
song  was  ended,  and  the  room  was  fully  illuminated 
again,  the  audience  consisted  of  some  twenty  girls,  as 
serious,  sober,  and  well-conducted  as  girls  could  be. 
They  came  up  to  the  ladies  in  authority  afterwards  to 
apologize  for  or  to  deny  their  share  in  the  recent  out- 
break ;  and  then  slipped  off  in  a  shame-faced  manner, 
to  join  their  rougher  companions  in  the  street.  Sev- 
eral shook  Lisa's  hand,  saying,  "You'll  be  sure  to  come 
again,  won't  you,  Miss?'' — and  for  that  evening  at  least 
Lisa  was  openly  mistress  of  the  field. 

The  other  ladies  congratulated  her  on  her  success, 
although  with  some  reserve  in  their  tones.  They 
thought  Lisa  rather  too  fashionable,  rather  too 
"worldly"-looking,  to  be  of  great  use  among  the  girls; 
but  they  invited  her  cordially  to  come  again.  And 
Lisa,  unconscious  that  her  dress  could  be  the  cause  of 


188  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

any  objection  to  her  presence,  promised  very  warmly 
that  she  would  come  back. 

She  came  again  and  again,  and  Nelly  Hagan  became 
her  special  pet  and  protege ;  and  she  learned  from  her 
a  great  deal  about  the  other  girls,  and  about  the  habits 
and  manners  of  the  very  poor.  It  was  quite  possible 
that  Lisa  did  not  do  the  girls  very  much  good,  but  they 
did  some  good  to  her.  They  taught  her  the  meaning 
and  value  of  submission  and  obedience,  of  sincerity, 
of  earnestness,  of  many  things  which  she  sometimes 
undervalued  and  misprized.  They  also  taught  her 
to  think  less  of  certain  other  things  which  she  had  all 
her  life  been  trained  to  respect — luxury,  for  instance, 
and  soft-living,  and  a  good  deal  of  what  she  had  been 
taught  to  call  refinement.  "It  makes  me  ashamed 
sometimes  to  think  what  I  have  spent  on  trifles,"  she 
said  to  Esther  more  than  once,  after  recounting  to  her 
some  tale  of  woe,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Esther,  with 
her  more  practical  matter-of-fact  way  of  viewing 
things,  had  to  check  her  indiscriminate  charity  some- 
times. And  she  did  not  give  unmixed  pleasure  to  her 
fellow-workers,  for  she  had  not  enough  of  experience 
to  know  always  what  to  do  for  the  best,  and  as  the 
club  was  worked  by  a  committee  of  ladies  on  a  some- 
what independent  basis,  there  was  no  one  to  take  Lisa 
seriously  in  hand  and  train  her  as  to  what  she  ought  to 
do.  But  all  went  well  for  a  little  time,  until  one  even- 
ing when  it  seemed  to  Lisa  as  if  she  were  treated  with 
exceptional  coldness  by  the  others,  and  when  she  heard 
one  lady  say  to  another — not  in  very  subdued  tones — 

"Such  a  grief  to  the  Byngs,  you  know.     Quite  un- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  189 

able  to  get  on  at  home.  In  fact,  they  would  not  keep 
her.  They  make  her  an  allowance  and  let  her  live 
where  she  likes.  A  very  undisciplined  character." 

"Rather  objectionable,"  said  the  other  lady.  "I 
think  she  is  not  a  suitable  person  for  our  work  at  all. 
Why  does  she  come?" 

"Oh,  for  a  little  excitement,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
first  speaker,  and  then  they  moved  away. 

Esther  was  startled  by  finding  Lisa  at  her  elbow  a 
few  minutes  later,  with  an  unusually  pale  face,  and  a 
look  of  appeal  in  her  clear  and  candid  eyes. 

"Esther,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  go  home.  Shall  I  go 
by  mysdf,  or  will  you  come  too?" 

"I  will  come  too.  You  don't  look  at  all  well,  Lisa. 
Anything  wrong?" 

"Nothing  much.     I  will  tell  when  we  get  home." 

And  it  was  not  until  they  were  safe  in  Lisa's  pretty 
little  sitting-room,  that  she  told  her  friend  the  words 
that  she  had  overheard. 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  way  that  people  do  talk  about 
me,"  she  said  gently,  but  with  a  distressed  look  in  her 
eyes;  "only  I  have  never  happened  to  hear  them  be- 
fore." 

"There  are  ill-natured  people  everywhere,"  said 
Esther,  not  quite  knowing  how  to  reply. 

"Esther,'' — the  words  came  very  quietly — "do  I 
strike  people  like  that?  Have  I  a  very  undisciplined 
character?" 

"My  dear  Lisa!  I  hardly  know  what  the  woman 
meant.  She  is  only  an  outsider,  you  must  remember. 


190  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

She  does  not  come  regularly  to  the  club  at  all.  I 
scarcely  know  her." 

"But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  mean — is  it 
true  that  I  was  wrong,  and  that  I  ought  to  have  yielded 
to  my  aunt's  wishes?  Tell  me  the  truth,  Esther,  I 
really  want  to  know." 

"I  can't  answer  in  one  word,"  said  Esther,  whose 
face  had  grown  grave.  "I  do  not  think  that  you  were 
wrong  to  refuse  to  marry  a  man  whom  you  did  not 
love ;  but  on  the  other  hand — " 

"Yes?"  said  Lisa,  as  Esther  paused. 

"Well,  I  have  often  wondered  how  you  could  justify 
it  to  yourself  to  walk  out  of  Lady  Charlotte's  house 
and  renounce  her  so  completely,  when  she  had  brought 
you  up  and  been  like  a  mother  to  you — " 

"Not  a  mother,"  said  Lisa,  in  a  low  tone.  "A 
mother  would  not  have  shut  her  door  against  me  as 
she  did!" 

"But  you  gave  her  very  little  chance  of  doing  any- 
thing else,  Lisa.  Have  you  ever  written,  ever  tried  to 
make  her  understand  that  you  were  sorry  for  the  pain 
you  must  have  given  her?" 

"She  would  not  read  my  letter  if  I  write." 

"Do  you  never  mean  to  see  her  again?" 

"What  am  I  to  say  to  her  if  I  do  see  her?"  said  Lisa, 
with  sudden  passion.  "Don't  you  know  that  if  Arthur 
had  been  true  to  me,  I  should  never  have  repented  of 
leaving  everything  for  him?  If  he  had  loved  me,  I 
should  have  been  a  proud  woman,  not  one  who  has 
cause  to  be  ashamed — who  can  be  scorned  and 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  191 

maligned  by  two  gossips  who  know  nothing  of  my  na- 
ture or  my  story!" 

"But  gossips  may  attack  anyone — and  almost  always 
unjustly,"  said  Esther,  sensibly.  "What  gossips  may 
say  ought  not  to  affect  us !  What  affects  us  is  whether 
we  are  doing  right  or  wrong." 

"But  if  we  do  not  know  whether  we  are  doing  right 
or  wrong?"  said  Lisa. 

"Is  that  possible?" 

"You  do  not  know  my  difficulties,"  said  Lisa,  in  her 
gentlest  voice.  It  seemed  to  Esther  a  wonderful  thing 
that  Lisa  should  look  so  gentle  and  speak  so  softly, 
and  yet  be  possessed  of  such  a  will  of  steel.  Lady 
Charlotte's  high  spirit  was  not  more  unbending,  more 
indisposed  to  yield.  "You  yourself  always  told  me 
that  we  ought  not  to  yield  tamely  to  oppression,  but 
try  to  lead  our  own  lives.  I  am  trying  to  be  independ- 
ent and  lead  my  own  life  now." 

"And  much  happiness  it  has  brought  you,  my  poor 
Lisa!" 

"Happiness !  Is  there  such  a  thing?"  said  Lisa,  put- 
ting her  hand  to  her  forehead,  with  a  momentary  look 
of  such  mental  and  physical  weariness  that  Esther  was 
alarmed  for  her.  But  it  passed  away  and  was  succeeded 
by  a  smile.  "We  all  have  to  'dree  our  weird,'"  she 
said,  "and  it  is  hard  sometimes  to  make  out  the  mean- 
ing of  it.  I  am  a  little  tired  of  philanthropy,  Esther. 
What  is  the  good  of  our  trying  to  benefit  these  work- 
ing girls  if  we  pull  each  other  to  pieces  behind  their 
backs?  Is  that  charity?" 

"I  think/'  said  Esther,  with  some  hesitation,  "that 


192  THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

we  have  been  beginning  at  the  wrong  end.  Our  club 
is  on  secular  lines  only.  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  we 
can  do  no  good  to  anyone  without  the  religious  influ- 
ence. Perhaps  we  never  tried  to  set  the  highest  and 
best  things  before  the  girls — and  the  workers  have  suf- 
fered too." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Lisa,  languidly.  "I  never  thought 
much  about  these  things.  Aunt  Charlotte  said  they 
made  people  dull.  But  since  I  have  come  to  this 
point,  what  is  there  to  do  but  be  dull?'' 

She. lifted  her  arms  and  crossed  them  behind  her 
fair  head;  her  face  slightly  averted,  looked  inexpressi- 
bly sad.  Something  in  her  listless  question  struck  a 
passionate  answer  from  Esther  as  fire  is  smitten  from  a 
flint. 

"Can  it  be  dull  to  set  ourselves  to  know  God?"  she 
asked. 

The  vibration  in  her  voice  called  Lisa  back  from  a 
melancholy  fit  of  dreaming. 

"You  are  full  of  life  and  vigor:  you  do  not  know 
what  it  is  to  be  dull.  I  am  only  a  sort  of  crushed  but- 
terfly, I  think.  But  lead  the  way,  Esther;  show  me 
what  to  do  next,  for  I  am  terribly  tired  of  the  present 
state  of  things,  and — I  hope  you  won't  mind — I  am  not 
going  to  that  girls'  club  any  more." 

"But— Nelly  Hagan?    And  the  others?" 

"They  must  come  to  see  me." 

"You  have  so  much  influence  with  girls,  Lisa,  that  I 
don't  like  to  think  of  your  giving  up  this  kind  of  work. 
Try  the  club  in  Marston  Street:  it  is  worked  on  the — 
well,  on  the  religious  basis,  I  suppose,"  said  Esther,  a 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  193 

little  afraid  of  impressing  her  views  too  strongly  upon 
her  friend,  "and  I  have  always  liked  what  I  saw  of  the 
workers  there." 

Lisa  made  no  objection,  but  for  some  days  seemed 
so  spiritless  and  out  of  heart  that  she  went  nowhere  at 
all.  Esther,  in  the  meantime,  paid  a  last  visit  to  the 
club,  took  her  leave  of  the  presiding  lady,  who  was  not 
very  sorry  to  hear  that  Miss  Daubeny  was  not  coming 
again ;  and  paid  two  or  three  visits  to  various  evening 
schools  and  girls'  institutes  before  she  could  make  up 
her  mind  whither  to  carry  the  offer  of  her  services. 

But  this  time  it  was  Lisa  who  decided  her  choice. 
Lisa  came  in  one  day,  with  a  face  so  expressive  of  a 
new  desire  that  Esther  looked  eagerly  for  an  expla- 
nation. 

"Nelly  Hagan  is  ill,"  she  said,  sitting  down  and 
plunging  into  her  subject  without  any  preface,  "and  I 
have  been  talking  to  her.  She  says  she  has  left  the 
club  and  means  to  go  back  to  one  that  she  belonged  to 
before.  It  is  in  Marston  Street." 

"The  very  one  I  mentioned  to  you." 

"Yes,  I  know.  Nelly  was  telling  me  about  it  She 
said  she  left  it  because  some  of  the  workers  talked  to 
them  about  religion.  I  almost  laughed  when  I  heard 
her  say  so ;  it  was  such  a  commentary  on  what  you  had 
been  saying." 

"But  she  wants  to  go  back  again!" 

"Yes,  and  she  implored  me  to  go  down  to  Marston 
Street  and  ask  if  she  might  become  a  member  again. 
So  I  went,  expecting  to  find  some  one  like  Mrs.  Led- 
with  or  Miss  Clarkson,  some  one  rather  haughty  and 

13 


194  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

austere,  you  know,  and  I  found  the  gentlest,  sweetest- 
faced  lady  in  black,  who  was  delighted  to  hear  of  Nelly 
Hagan  and  said  she  would  do  all  in  her  power  to  help 
her — quite  irrespective  of  political  economy,  you 
know,  or  any  question  of  the  housing  of  the  poorer 
classes.  And  I  saw  a  lady  in  uniform,  whom  every- 
body called  Sister;  and  I  have  promised  to  go  to-mor- 
row and  play  for  them  when  they  practice  hymns  for 
their  Sunday  class." 

It  seemed  to  Esther  a  more  hopeful  opening  than 
the  other  one  had  been.  She  had  begun  to  feel  that 
she  wanted  to  see  Lisa  Daubeny  laid  hold  of  by  some 
positive  belief  in  something  out  of  herself:  as  though 
she  would  never  be  happy  so  long  as  she  sought  her 
own  will  and  her  own  way,  and  that  perhaps  the  first 
lessons  needed  were  those  of  submission  to  authority 
and  faith  in  the  unseen.  She  herself  had  been  learning 
the  same  lessons,  superadded  to  a  resignation  to  the 
uncertain  and  perilous  future,  which  Lisa  could  not 
feel  to  the  same  degree.  For  Lisa's  future,  in  a  ma- 
terial sense,  at  any  rate,  was  provided  for:  she  had  a 
sufficient  income  for  her  life,  without  the  necessity  of 
working;  whereas  Esther  knew  very  well  that  her  own 
comfort,  her  own  livelihood,  depended  upon  the  health 
of  her  body  and  the  strength  of  her  brain.  She  won- 
dered sometimes  what  would  become  of  her  if  she 
grew  ill  or  unable  to  work,  and  she  had  difficulty  at 
those  moments  in  abstaining  from  some  regrets  for 
the  prospect  that  had  once  opened  out  before  her  with 
such  absolute  fairness,  and  which  she  had  with  her  own 
hand  so  resolutely  put  aside  from  her. 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  195 

After  her  parting  with  Justin  Thorbld,  she  had  heard 
no  more  of  him  for  some  weeks.  Then  she  saw  from 
the  newspapers  that  he  had  resigned  his  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment and  gone  abroad;  and  for  many  a  long  day  her 
heart  was  sore  within  her  with  the  consciousness  that 
she  had  not  only  hurt  him,  but  had  hurt  his  work — the 
thing  that  he  was  pledged  to  do.  With  her  fiery  con- 
ception of  duty,  it  seemed  to  Esther  as  if  Thorold 
ought  to  have  gone  on  with  his  work  even  while  his 
heart  was  breaking-— not  thrown  it  all  up  and  gone 
away  to  take  his  pleasure  in  foreign  lands ! 

She  had  a  sense  of  desolation  which  equaled  that  of 
Lisa,  although  she  had  not  been  formally  renounced 
by  her  family,  or  slandered  by  unkind  tongues.  Ar- 
thur was  no  longer  a  friend  of  hers,  and  although  she 
was  bitterly  angry  with  him,  she  could  not  help  miss- 
ing his  companionship.  He  had  always  been  ready  in 
the  old  days,  to  drop  in  and  smoke  a  cigarette  in  her 
room,  while  he  told  her  of  all  that  he  meant  to  do  and 
to  be  in  the  coming  years;  or  to  take  her  out  for  a 
stroll  along  the  Serpentine.  The  old  partisanship  of 
Lisa's  cause  and  affection  for  Lisa  herself  were  not  al- 
ways successful  in  winning  her  mind  from  thoughts  of 
days  gone  by.  So  the  two  girls  lived  side  by  side,  and 
worked  in  their  different  ways  and  with  gradually 
diverging  aims;  for  as  Esther  was  obliged  to  labor  more 
and  more  arduously  at  her  profession,  Lisa  devoted 
herself  with  constantly  increasing  fervor  to  her  work 
among  the  poorest  of  the  poor.  For  both,  life  seemed 
to  pause  a  while;  as  if  it  waited  for  a  crisis  which  ap- 
proached and  yet  was  long  delayed. 


196  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   MOODS   OF   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

Lady  Charlotte  Byng  was  not  a  very  easy  person  to 
understand.  Every  now  and  then  she  delighted  her 
friends  by  some  sudden  manifestation  of  nobility  of 
character:  now  and  then  she  surprised  them  by  an  out- 
break of  passion  or  willfulness  which  must  mentally 
lower  their  opinion  of  her  and  her  own  of  herself.  And 
again  she  would  disarm  them  by  a  swift  return  upon 
herself,  a  frank  penitence,  a  generous  acceptance  of 
blame,  which  went  far  in  their  opinion  to  atone  for  the 
ill  that  she  had  done. 

But  in  the  matter  of  her  niece,  Lady  Charlotte's  be- 
havior had  not  seemed  to  conform  to  the  ordinary 
rules  of  her  character.  She  had  had  no  generous  or 
noble  impulses  where  Lisa  had  been  concerned.  She 
had  treated  her  with  rigor,  with  harshness,  and  even 
when  the  girl  was  most  to  be  pitied  she  had  sternly  re- 
fused tore-admit  her  to  the  house.  In  vain  did  Mr.  Byng 
and  Mr.  Furnival,  and  even  Justin  Thorold,  plead  with 
her  for  mercy.  They  reminded  her  that  she  was 
treating  Lisa  as  if  she  had  really  brought  some  great 
disgrace  upon  herself,  some  lasting  shame  upon  her 
family.  All  the  world  would  say  that  it  was  so,  when 
Lady  Charlotte's  conduct  to  her  niece  was  observed; 
and  that  Lisa  had  in  reality  only  been  willful  and  way- 
ward, and  had  announced  her  intention  of  marrying  a 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  197 

young  man  whom  her  aunt  disliked.  Many  a  girl  had 
done  this  before,  and  had  been  ultimately  forgiven  by 
her  friends.  And  it  would  be  particularly  easy  for 
Lisa  to  be  forgiven,  seeing  that  she  had  not  married 
the  young  man  after  all. 

"That's  the  worst  part  of  it,"  Lady  Charlotte  had  at 
first  cried  out  angrily.  "Why  hasn't  he  married  her?" 

"Her  illness  seems  to  have  come  on  immediately," 
said  Mr.  Furnival.  It  was  after  his  visit  to  Esther's 
rooms.  "Possibly  the  wedding  was  fixed  for  a  day  or 
two  later ;  and  may  be  performed  as  soon  as  the  young 
lady  is  recovered.'' 

"You  can  ascertain  that,  can  you  not?'  said  Lady 
Charlotte,  with  an  eagerness  which  was  decidedly 
sharp.  "And  you  made  Miss  Ellison  understand 
that  the  allowance  would  cease  at  once  if  the  marriage 
were  carried  out?" 

"My  dear  Charlotte,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Byng  in  a  re- 
monstrant undertone.  Then,  as  she  turned  and 
looked  at  him,  he  added,  rather  timidly,  "We  should 
have  to  receive  them,  sooner  or  later,  if  they  married, 
you  know." 

"I  should  not,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  haughtily,  and 
turned  her  back  upon  him  without  saying  more. 

Some  weeks  then  passed  by  without  further  discus- 
sion of  the  matter.  Lady  Charlotte  rigidly  abstained 
from  inquiries,  but  Mr.  Byng  questioned  Mr.  Furnival 
closely  whenever  the  old  lawyer  appeared  at  Westhills 
with  his  budget  of  news.  Mr.  Furnival  interviewed 
Esther  rather  often  about  this  time ;  but  Esther  never 
guessed  that  every  item  of  information  she  gave  him 


198  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

was  conveyed  to  the  house  among-  the  Surrey  hills,  and 
that  Mr.  Byng  who  was  exceedingly  attached  to  Lisa, 
would  willingly  have  come  to  see  her  if  Lady  Charlotte 
would  have  allowed  it.  But  Lady  Charlotte  would 
not  allow  it,  and  Mr.  Byng  had  never  been  master  in 
his  own  house. 

After  a  time,  the  reports  of  Lisa's  condition  became 
more  favorable,  and  Mr.  Furnival  came  less  often  to 
the  house.  It  was  late  in  the  autumn  when  he  brought 
word  on  Esther's  authority,  that  Lisa's  engagement  to 
Arthur  Ellison  was  entirely  at  an  end,  and  not  likely  to 
be  renewed  on  either  side.  There  was  therefore  no 
reason  why  the  allowance  of  three  hundred  a  year 
should  not  be  made  permanent. 

He  had,  as  usual,  made  these  remarks  to  Mr.  Byng, 
carefully  choosing  a  moment  when  Lady  Charlotte 
was  sure  to  hear.  As  he  had  expected,  the  words  pro- 
duced an  instant  effect  upon  her.  She  turned  round 
sharply  and  demanded,  with  flashing  eyes  and  in  a 
voice  of  thunder — 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  man  won't  marry 
her?" 

"I  have  tried  to  ascertain  all  particulars,"  said  Mr. 
Furnival,  in  his  bland  voice,  "and  I  even  managed  to 
interview  Mr.  Ellison  for  a  few  minutes;  but  all  that 
he  would  say  was  that  the  engagement  was  dissolved 
by  mutual  consent" 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  he  deserves  horse-whipping 
within  an  inch  of  his  life,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  clench- 
ing her  hand. 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  in  amaze.  He  could  not 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  199 

see  why — when  she  had  been  so  anxious  to  obtain  a 
rupture  of  the  engagement — she  should  yet  be  so 
angry  with  young  Ellison  for  breaking  it  off.  But  Mr. 
Furnival  smiled.  He  knew  the  world  very  well,  and 
he  knew  Lady  Charlotte;  and  he  fully  believed  that 
the  day  of  reconciliation  between  her  and  her  niece 
was  not  far  off. 

"Possibly/'  said  the  old  lawyer  slowly,  "there  was 
an  obstacle  somewhere.  There  often  is.  Another 
woman — " 

"In  that  case,  Lisa  is  safe,"  said  Mr.  Byng,  with  an 
air  of  relief.  "I  think,  Charlotte,  that  a  message  from 
(us— » 

"To  whom?"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  in  a  hard  voice. 

"To  Lisa,  of  course,  begging  her  to  come  home — " 

"Oh,"  said  his  wife  dryly.  She  got  up  and  swept 
her  long  skirts  to  the  door  but  paused  with  her  hand 
on  the  knob  to  say  a  parting  word.  "The  only  mes- 
sage I  can  imagine  sending  is  the  one  that  my  grand- 
father would  have  sent  to  Arthur  Ellison  in  a  similar 
case.  In  these  degenerate  days  messages  of  that  kind 
are  out  of  fashion ;  but  there  is  no  other  I  feel  inclined 
to  send,  either  to  Lisa  Daubeny  or  to  anyone  else 
whose  name  has  been  mentioned." 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her,  not  noisily  or  even 
emphatically — she  did  not  point  her  words  by  her 
movements — but  the  two  men  she  left  behind  felt 
rather  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  been  launched  at  their 
devoted  heads. 

"You  see!"  said  Mr.  Byng,  nodding  dismally  at  his 
neighbor.  "She  won't  hear  a  word  in  her  favor." 


200  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Give  her  time!  Give  her  time!"  said  the  lawyer, 
shaking  a  little,  but  holding  valiantly  to  his  opinion. 
"She  will  come  round.'' 

She  did  not  "come  round,"  however,  although  the 
two  men  (and  Thorold  with  them,  until  he  left  Eng- 
land) spared  no  pains  to  induce  her  to  send  some  mes- 
sage of  forgiveness  or  friendliness  to  Lisa.  But  she 
absolutely  refused  to  do  it.  Mr.  Furnival,  who  was 
perhaps  less  afraid  of  her  than  any  other  person  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  took  upon  himself  one  day  to  tell 
her  that  she  was  not  doing  her  duty  to  her  dead  sis- 
ter's child. 

Lady  Charlotte  turned  upon  him  with  a  face,  as  he 
afterwards  said,  "of  steel  and  iron,"  and  reminded  him 
that  Lisa  was  of  age  and  beyond  her  jurisdiction. 

"Women  need  friends  at  any  age,"  paid  Mr.  Furni- 
val  sententiously. 

"She  has  thrown  off  our  friendship:  and  when  she 
needs  it,  she  can  let  us  know." 

"My  dear  lady!  Is  that  likely?  Miss  Daubeny  has 
got  all  the  pride  of  her  race.  In  some  cases,  it  seems 
to  me,  Lady  Charlotte,  that  a  young  lady — a  young 
girl — should  be  helped  in  spite  of  herself.  Miss 
Daubeny  has  laid  herself  open  to  the  assaults  of  spite- 
ful tongues,  that  cannot  be  denied;  and  your  ladyship 
gives  countenance  to  these  evil  reports  by  neither  mak- 
ing public  the  cause  of  the  quarrel,  or  receiving  your 
niece  back  into  your  own  house." 

"I  cannot  help  it,  if  people  say  nasty  things.  Lisa 
was  quite  old  enough  and  had  seen  quite  enough  of  the 
world  to  know  that  a  flight  from  her  guardians'  house 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  201 

would  set  everybody  talking.  I'm  told  there  have 
been  paragraphs  in  the  society  papers  about  her — '' 

"And  about  yourself,  Lady  Charlotte,"  said  Mr.  Fur- 
nival,  with  great  politeness  of  manner,  but  malicious 
intent. 

"It  matters  very  little  what  they  say  of  me,"  she  re- 
turned; "I'm  rather  beyond  the  attacks  of  scandal- 
mongers, thank  heaven !  It  is  Lisa  herself  who  will  be 
affected  by  them,  and  she  ought  to  know  better  than 
to  lay  herself  open  to  such  assaults.'' 

"She  could  guard  herself  from  them  only  by  coming 
back  to  Westhills,"  said  Mr.  Furnival  cautiously. 

"To  Westhills?    Never!" 

"You  will  not  interfere  to  shield  her?" 

"Why  should  I?"  said  Lady  Charlotte  abruptly;  and 
Mr.  Furnival  held  his  peace.  But  while  he  was  pre- 
paring a  retort  which  he  hoped  to  prove  effectual,  she 
faced  round  on  him  with  her  hands  behind  her  back — 
a  favorite  attitude  of  hers — and  delivered  herself  un- 
compromisingly. 

"I  don't  wish  to  hear  anything  more  about  it — or 
about  her,  Furnival.  (In  certain  moods,  Lady  Char- 
lotte always  left  out  the  "Mr.")  I  will  not  be  trapped 
into  saying  what  I  would  do  or  what  I  would  not  do, 
under  circumstances  which  are  not  likely  to  occur.  I 
should  never  receive  Lisa  here  again,  unless  she 
chooses  to  humble  herself,  and  ask  pardon  for  her  be- 
havior. That,  as  you  know,  she  is  not  a  bit  likely  to 
do.  So  why  should  we  bother  ourselves?" 

"A  word  of  encouragement,"  began  the  old  man  ten- 


202  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

tatively;  but  Lady  Charlotte  silenced  him  once  and  for 
all. 

"I'll  send  no  word  of  encouragement  to  anyone. 
And  you'll  please  not  say  to  her  or  to  her  friends  that 
I  shall  be  likely  to  listen  even  to  the  humblest  of  apol- 
ogies. She  has  cast  me  off;  and  I  cast  her  off  in  my 
turn.  I  don't  want  to  hear  her  name  again.  I  don't 
think  any  the  worse  of  you  for  trying  to  plead  her 
cause,  you  know,  my  good  man;  you  do  it  better  than 
Howard,  who  is  a  perfect  idiot  where  she  is  concerned ; 
but  I  am  tired  of  the  subject,  and  don't  want  to  hear 
any  more  of  it." 

After  that,  Mr.  Furnival  had  really  no  excuse  for  in- 
troducing Lisa's  name  into  a  conversation  with  Lady 
Charlotte;  but  he  took  good  care  to  keep  Mr.  Byng 
well-informed  as  to  the  movements  and  circumstances 
of  Miss  Daubeny  and  Miss  Ellison. 

And  thus  the  winter  went  by,  and  then  the  spring. 
Summer  came  again,  but  brought  no  hint  of  Lisa's  re- 
turn to  her  old  home;  and  autumn  glowed  in  the 
woods,  but  reconciliation  was  as  far  off  as  ever. 

It  was  noticed  that  Lady  Charlotte  was  beginning  to 
look  worn  and  pale:  the  outline  of  her  cheek  was 
sharper,  the  curve  of  her  brows  more  persistently 
stormy,  her  activity  was  untiring.  She  managed  all 
her  affairs  with  twice  her  old  spirit  and  assiduity;  and 
when  she  was  not  engaged  in  outdoor  pursuits,  she 
devoted  herself  to  literature.  Several  articles  in  maga- 
zines on  biographical  and  historical  matters  at  this 
time  came  from  her  pen :  she  was  announced  to  have  a 
book  in  the  press,  and  there  was  a  hint  of  her  having 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  203 

accepted  a  post  on  a  great  critical  journal.  In  addi- 
tion to  these  employments,  she  visited  and  entertained 
a  great  deal.  How  she  found  time  for  everything,  no- 
body could  imagine.  But  it  was  reported  that  she 
could  do  with  four  hours'  sleep  only,  and  a  great  deal 
can  be  got  into  the  superfluous  hours  gained  by  wake- 
fulness. 

Mr.  Byng  looked  drooping  and  depressed.  He  was 
unaffectedly  attached  to  Lisa,  and  the  breach  between 
her  and  her  family  gave  him  real  pain.  Lady  Char- 
lotte, who  knew  by  instinct  what  he  was  thinking 
about,  used  to  grow  positively  angry  when  he  sat  with 
her  sometimes;  for  he  did  nothing  but  look  beyond 
him  and  sigh.  She  was  only  too  well  aware  that  he 
was  sighing  for  Lisa  all  the  time. 

On  a  wet  day  when  even  Lady  Charlotte  was  con- 
fined to  the  house,  she  found  this  habit  of  sighing  quite 
intolerable.  She  rose  at  last,  and  left  him  alone  in  the 
drawing-room,  while  she  retired  to  the  library  and  tried 
to  pretend  that  she  was  busy.  But  for  once  the  will 
to  work  had  deserted  her.  She  tried  in  vain  to  fix  her 
attention  upon  the  books  and  papers  on  her  writing- 
table.  The  rain,  driving  against  the  broad  plate-glass 
windows,  made  her  melancholy.  The  rush  of  the 
wind,  among  the  branches  of  the  swinging  poplars, 
with  their  wealth  of  golden  leaves,  gave  her  a  shivering 
sensation.  She  drew  a  chair  to  the  fireside,  turning 
her  back  upon  the  rain-swept  world  without,  took  up  a 
magazine  and  tried  to  read.  But  before  long  the  book 
fell  from  her  hands,  and  she  was  looking  into  the  red 
embers  of  the  fire,  and  dreaming  of  the  past.  She  was 


204  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

not  quite  sure  afterwards  whether  she  had  been  asleep 
or  awake.  She  was  remembering  the  day  when  a  lit- 
tle blue-eyed  child  had  first  come  into  her  house,  a 
child  whom  it  had  seemed  to  her  so  easy  to  love  and 
care  for.  She  fancied  she  saw  the  little  Lisa,  a  fairy  in 
white,  with  long  golden  hair,  cut  straight  over  her 
soft  brows,  running  into  the  room — that  room,  the 
library — with  arms  outstretched,  and  she  saw  how  the 
child  tripped  over  a  footstool  and  fell.  All  this  had 
happened  in  reality  many  years  before,  and  up  to  that 
point  Lady  Charlotte  felt  sure  that  she  was  wide  awake. 
But  then  came  something  which  certainly  had  not  oc- 
curred in  real  life.  The  child  seemed  to  have  hurt  her- 
self: there  was  blood  upon  her  face  and  on  her  frock: 
she  stretched  out  her  little  hands  for  help — and  Lady 
Charlotte  could  not  give  it.  No,  though  she  strained 
every  nerve  to  rise  and  go  to  the  child's  assistance,  she 
could  not  move.  An  anguish  of  powerlessness  was 
upon  her:  she  would  have  screamed  for  help  if  she 
could  have  found  a  voice.  But  she  could  neither 
speak  nor  move,  and  there  lay  the  child,  helpless,  cry- 
ing, perhaps  even  at  the  point  of  death. 

Lady  Charlotte  started  up,  broad  awake.  It  was 
eighteen  years  since  Lisa  had  fallen  over  a  foot-stool 
on  the  library-floor,  and  her  aunt  had  picked  her  up 
and  kissed  her  and  consoled  her.  Why  then  should 
she  dream  of  the  scene?  and  give  such  a  disagreeable 
turn  to  the  story? 

Perhaps,  because — the  idea  occurred  to  her  for  a 
moment — Lisa  was  quite  as  much  in  want  of  help  now 
as  she  had  been  when  a  tiny  child  in  a  white  frock,  not 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  205 

very  strong  for  her  age,  nor  steady  upon  her  feet;  and 
she,  Charlotte  Byng,  the  girl's  nearest  relation,  had  re- 
fused to  help  her  in  her  extremity.  The  thought 
flashed  through  her  brain,  and  was  angrily  dismissed; 
but  the  dream  had  shaken  her.  When  she  rose  to  her 
feet,  she  found  that  her  hands  were  trembling  and  that 
there  was  a  mist  before  her  eyes. 

"What  a  fool  I  am !  I  must  be  getting  into  my  dot- 
age!" she  said  to  herself.  She  rang  the  bell  in  her 
usual  imperious  way;  and  it  was  answered  at  once  by 
Andrews,  looking  as  imperturbable  and  almost  as 
young  as  he  looked  twenty  years  ago. 

"Have  the  letters  come,  Andrews?  Bring  them  to 
me,  and  a  cup  of  tea." 

The  letters  were  brought:  there  was  generally  a 
goodly  pile  of  them  for  Lady  Charlotte.  Andrews 
placed  them  carefully  beside  the  little  silver  tray  on 
which  her  tea  was  set.  There  was  a  rather  big  brown 
parcel:  there  were  also  several  newspapers,  some 
printers'  proofs,  and  half  a  dozen  letters. 

She  drank  her  tea  before  she  opened  any  of  them. 
Her  hands  were  not  quite  steady  yet,  and  she  felt  a 
little  unnerved.  She  waited  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  set  to  work  on  the  letters,  leaving  the  papers  for 
a  later  period. 

The  first  three  letters  referred  to  invitations  given  or 
accepted.  Then  came  a  tradesman's  circular,  then  a 
missive  from  Mr.  Dorian,  the  publisher.  Lady  Char- 
lotte had  made  up  the  little  quarrel  that  had  arisen  be- 
tween them.  She  had  been  all  the  more  ready  to  make 
it  up  because  she  heard  that  he  was  not  now  very 


206  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

friendly  with  Arthur  Ellison,  whose  early  poems  he 
had  published,  but  who  had  acted  rather  shabbily  (it 
was  said)  with  regard  to  the  eldest  Miss  Dorian,  to 
whom  he  had  once  been  almost,  if  not  quite  engaged. 
Lady  Charlotte  had  told  Mr.  Dorian  pretty  roundly 
what  she  thought  of  Arthur  Ellison,  and  she  had  not 
yet  gone  so  far  in  friendship  as  to  offer  him  any  of  her 
books  in  publication;  but  she  had  called  on  him  once 
or  twice,  and  suggested  that  she  still  enjoyed  glancing 
over  unpublished  manuscripts,  when  he  had  any  that 
were  interesting  enough  to  be  sent  to  her. 

"I'll  remember  your  kind  offer,  Lady  Charlotte," 
said  the  publisher,  readily.  "Your  opinion  is  often 
worth  its  weight  in  gold  to  me."  And  he  meant  what 
he  said;  for  Lady  Charlotte  possessed  the  critical 
faculty  in  perfection.  Evidently  he  had  kept  his  word. 
He  had  himself  written  to  say  that  a  manuscript  had 
been  submitted  to  him  which  interested  him  very 
greatly,  and  on  which  he  ventured  to  ask  for  Lady 
Charlotte's  judgment.  She  threw  the  note  aside  care- 
lessly. "That  will  keep,"  she  said. 

The  next  letter  gave  her  a  momentary  feeling  of 
pleasure :  it  was  from  Justin  Thorold.  But  the  pleas- 
ure very  soon  died  away.  He  wrote  from  the  Enga- 
dine,  saying  that  he  meant  to  come  home  to  Hurst  for 
the  winter,  and  should  be  back  almost  as  soon  as  his 
letter. 

"I  have  not  heard  from  you  for  so  long  that  I  know 
nothing  of  what  has  happened  lately,"  he  said.  "You 
will  let  me  hope,  dear  Lady  Charlotte,  that  all  is  well 
between  you  and  your  niece,  and  that  she  is  once  more 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  207 

in  her  proper  place  at  Westhills.  Write  to  me,  I  beg 
of  you,  and  tell  me  this.  Perhaps  then  I  may  be  able 
to  form  a  hope  of  winning  back  the  one  whom  you 
know  I  love  above  all  others." 

Lady  Charlotte  crushed  the  thin  sheet  into  a  ball, 
which  she  sent  to  the  other  side  of  the  hearth-rug.  "It 
is  sickening,"  she  said  to  herself.  "How  these  men 
persecute  me  about  those  two  girls!  I  wish  I  were  in 
my  grave ;  then  they  could  marry  whom  they  like,  the 
lot  of  them.  What  has  Dorian  sent  me?  I'll  see:  per- 
haps it  is  something  amusing;  something  to  help  me  to 
forget  this  wretched  weather." 

She  drew  the  brown-paper  packet  towards  her.  It 
was  beautifully  folded  as  all  publishers'  parcels  are: 
the  string  was  neatly  fastened  by  the  smallest  and  tight- 
est of  knots :  the  address  was  a  model  of  artistic  calig- 
raphy.  "How  does  Dorian  get  all  his  clerks  to  write 
alike,  I  wonder,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  peering  at  it. 
"He  must  send  them  to  a  writing-master,  first,  I  think. 
It's  a  beautiful  hand.'' 

She  cut  the  string  and  threw  the  pieces  recklessly 
into  the  fire ;  then  she  unfolded  the  wrappings,  brown 
paper,  gray  paper,  blue  paper,  with  a  final  layer  of 
white.  The  manuscript  was  not  type-written,  a  fact  at 
which  she  frowned.  Then  she  bent  her  brows  again, 
but  with  a  different  expression. 

"Whose  writing  is  this?"  she  said.  "I  seem  to  know 
the  hand." 

It  was  a  small,  fine  hand,  very  legible,  with  every 
letter  beautifully  made.  Lady  Charlotte  turned  to  the 


208  .THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

first  page,  but  there  was  no  name.    The  book  was  said 
to  be  by  "Veritas." 

Then  a  change  came  over  Lady  Charlotte's  face.  It 
turned  suddenly  to  stone.  She  recognized  the  hand- 
writing: she  knew  who  had  written  this  book,  which 
chance  had  given  over  into  her  hands.  It  was  by  Ar- 
thur Ellison,  the  man  whom  she  hated  more  than  any 
other  in  the  world. 


THE    LADY  CHARLOTTE.  209 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    POLITICIAN    OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL. 

What  grim  chance  had  given  Arthur  Ellison  into 
Lady  Charlotte's  hands?  "Oh,  that  mine  enemy  had 
written  a  book"  is  a  very  ancient  aspiration:  but  it  is 
not  often  that  it  is  so  far  gratified  as  in  this  case,  when 
not  only  had  he  written  a  book  but  had  delivered  it 
over  to  the  very  person  who  was  likely  to  look  on  it 
unfavorably.  Of  course,  Lady  Charlotte  could  con- 
demn the  book  only  in  Mr.  Dorian's  eyes:  Ellison 
would  naturally  take  it  to  some  other  publisher  if  Mr. 
Dorian  refused  it,  and  the  book  would  be  published 
in  spite  of  any  adverse  criticism  from  Lady  Charlotte. 
But  she  could  harass  the  young  author  with  Dorian's 
refusal ;  and  she  knew  very  well  that  to  be  refused  by 
a  great  publisher  often  depresses  a  writer  unduly.  It 
was  within  her  power  even  to  make  him  feel  the  lash  of 
her  criticism,  by  requesting  Mr.  Dorian  to  forward  to 
the  young  author  a  copy  of  the  "opinion"  with  which 
she  had  favored  him.  It  was  usually  considered  a 
compliment  to  make  this  request — a  tribute  to  the 
young  author's  merits — but  Lady  Charlotte  felt  that 
she  could  make  him  wince  very  considerably  while  ap- 
proaching him  in  complimentary  garb.  She  smiled 
a  little  over  the  idea:  she  gloated  over  the  lucky 
chance  that  had  placed  Arthur  Ellison's  work  in  her 
hands. 

14 


210  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

Lady  Charlotte  was  one  of  a  great  number  of  distin- 
guished literary  people  who  act,  in  semi-official  char- 
acter, as  "tasters"  to  great  publishing  houses.  A  book 
of  unusual  merit,  on  a  subject  which  interested  her,  if 
sent  to  Mr.  Dorian's  office,  was  pretty  certain  to  find 
its  way  into  her  hands.  She  would  condescend  to  give 
her  opinion  on  books  of  only  a  certain  class,  for  she 
was  not  a  professional  "reader,"  bound  to  look  at  any- 
thing that  came  before  her,  but  an  expert  on  particular 
subjects  and  a  good  critic  of  their  especial  merits. 
Therefore  she  did  not  read  novels  for  Mr.  Dorian,  or 
poetry,  or  essays;  but  she  would  read  some  books  of 
travel,  and  memoirs  relating  to  that  part  of  the  last 
century  which  she  considered  especially  her  own 
property.  It  had  always  been  an  understood  thing  that 
books  of  this  kind  alone  should  be  sent  to  Lady  Char- 
lotte when  she  was  "reading"  for  Mr.  Dorian.  Of  late, 
as  we  have  said,  she  had  not  troubled  herself  with  his 
manuscripts,  because  she  had  had  a  quarrel  with  him; 
but  now  that  they  had  made  it  up,  and  she  had  offered 
to  do  some  work  for  him,  she  supposed  that  he  would 
continue  to  send  her  books  of  the  same  character. 
But  what  could  Arthur  Ellison  have  written  that  would 
come  under  that  head?  Travel  in  the  East?  Impossi- 
ble: he  was  not  rich  enough  to  travel.  Biography? 
"What  did  he  know?"  Lady  Charlotte  said  con- 
temptuously. Art? — another  of  her  favorite  subjects 
— well,  very  possibly,  he  might  think  he  could  write 
about  Art.  In  that  case  it  would  be  her  business  to 
show  him,  sharply  and  unmistakably,  his  own  ignor- 
ance. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  211 

But,  still  holding  the  half-opened  manuscript  in  her 
hand,  Lady  Charlotte  went  through  a  few  moments  of 
conscience-stricken  doubt.  She  thought  it  one  of  the 
worst  of  crimes  to  turn  private  knowledge  of  a  man  to 
public  account :  she  had  never  once  allowed  a  personal 
dislike  knowingly  to  influence  her  in  judging  of  a 
man's  work.  In  one  or  two  instances,  where  she  had 
been  asked  to  give  an  opinion  of  a  book  by  a  man 
whom  she  detested,  she  had  at  once  sent  back  the 
manuscript  to  Mr.  Dorian  with  a  curt  note  of  expla- 
nation. "Can't  do  this.  Hate  the  man  too  much  to 
be  fair,"  she  had  written  once.  And  this  was  a  case 
in  point.  She  was  not  at  all  capable  of  being  "fair'' 
to  Arthur  Ellison.  She  ought  to  send  the  book  back 
unread.  She  knew  before  turning  a  page  that  she 
was  prepared  to  find  it  without  wit  or  wisdom  or 
value  of  any  kind. 

But  she  was  not  prepared  to  forego  her  advan- 
tages. She  rather  wondered  that  the  book  had  been 
sent  to  her  at  all.  Perhaps  there  was  some  special 
reason  for  that.  Everyone  knew  that  Arthur  Ellison 
had  offended  Lady  Charlotte  Byng,  had  made  love 
to  Lisa,  and  cruelly  jilted  her  when  she  had  given 
up  her  family  for  him.  Ah,  but  of  course  his  name 
was  not  on  the  title-page.  It  had  probably  never 
crossed  Mr.  Dorian's  mind  that  she  would  recognize 
the  author's  handwriting,  characteristic  though  it  was; 
and  he  had  wished  to  find  out  her  real  opinion  of  the 
book,  when  not  seen  through  the  distorting  medium 
of  personal  dislike.  Yes,  she  would  read  it;  and — 
after  all — she  would  try  to  be  fair.  But  it  was 


212  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

not  possible  that  Arthur  Ellison  should  have  written 
anything  that  she  could  like. 

What  was  it  all  about?  She  lifted  the  first  page 
again  and  looked  at  the  title.  "A  Politician  of  the 
Old  School" — pray,  what  did  he  know  about  poli- 
ticians, or  about  the  "Old  School,"  of  which  he  wrote 
so  glibly?  Lady  Charlotte's  lip  curled.  She  prided 
herself  upon  knowing  a  good  deal  about  both.  She 
said  to  herself  that  he  had  probably  imagined  his 
facts  and  invented  his  opinions.  As  to  dates — but 
there  was  also  a  date  upon  his  title-page.  "1790- 
1830" — it  was  the  period  which  she  had  studied  most 
minutely,  the  period  corresponding  to  that  time  when 
Lord  Belfield  was  in  power,  and  Lady  Muncaster  was 
becoming  celebrated  as  the  beauty  in  the  fashion- 
able world.  The  date  of  Lady  Charlotte's  own  birth 
was  1842.  What  had  Arthur  Ellison  to  say  about 
those  dates? 

Her  eye  traveled  rapidly  over  a  page  or  two.  Then 
her  color  rose  and  her  breath  quickened.  A  suspicion 
of  the  truth  dawned  upon  her.  Before  long  it  was 
certainty.  Arthur  Ellison,  by  some  diabolical  skill, 
had  reconstructed  the  whole  of  Lord  Belfield's  pri- 
vate history,  giving  scandalous  details  of  his  early 
loves,  still  more  scandalous  accounts  of  the  political 
"jobs''  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  most  of  the 
amusing  stories  which  Lady  Charlotte  had  intended 
to  form  the  spice  of  her  own  memoirs  of  her  grand- 
father, and  some  which  she  had  intended  to  suppress. 
Where  had  he  got  the  materials  for  these  pages? 
She  gasped  with  angry  horror  as  she  rapidly  perused 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  213 

them.  They  were  extracts  from  Lord  Belfield's  let- 
ters, given  almost  word  for  word.  Worst  of  all,  there 
were  insinuations  more  damaging  than  actual  state- 
ments; and  it  was  perfectly  certain  that  the  whole 
book,  when  published,  would  make  a  profound  stir 
in  certain  sections  of  the  political  and  fashionable 
world.  There  would  be  very  little  left  of  Lord  Bel- 
field's  reputation  or  that  of  some  of  his  friends. 

"No  doubt,  Dorian  was  delighted  to  get  hold  of  it," 
mused  Lady  Charlotte,  lifting  her  eyes  for  a  moment 
from  the  beautifully  written  quarto  sheets;  "but  how 
he  came  to  send  it  to  me  passes  my  comprehension. 
Doesn't  he  know  that  I  shall  move  heaven  and  earth 
to  prevent  its  publication?  I  should  think  I  could 
get  an  injunction  as  soon  as  the  book  is  advertised. 
Perhaps  Dorian  counts  on  that  to  increase  the  sale, 
for  no  doubt  the  man  would  then  publish  it  under 
another  name,  with  the  excision  of  certain  passages, 
and  I  should  be  able  to  do  nothing  more.  No,  I  must 
take  other  methods.  But  what  was  Dorian  about?" 

The  question  was  to  some  extent  answered  by  the 
arrival  of  a  telegram  at  that  moment  from  the  pub- 
lisher himself.  Lady  Charlotte  read  it  with  a  smile 
of  grim  satisfaction  on  her  face. 

"Wrong  parcel  sent  you  by  clerk's  mistake.  Kindly 
return  it  without  delay;  right  manuscript  to  follow. 

"Dorian." 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  the  clerk,"  thought  she;  "but 
I  am  not  going  to  surrender  what  I  have  gained  by 


214  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

his  mistake.  He'll  be  dismissed  for  carelessness,  I 
suppose.  I'll  find  him  out  and  do  something  for  him. 
And  now  for  Mr.  Dorian.  He  will  understand  what 
I  mean — Lord  knows  whether  he  won't  be  here  him- 
self by  next  train  if  I  don't  choke  him  off." 

She  wrote  her  telegram,  which  consisted  of  few 
words  only.  "Too  late.  Shall  be  with  you  to-mor- 
row. Charlotte  Byng.'' 

"And  now  I'll  finish  reading  it,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "For  the  sooner  it's  done  the  better."  She 
turned  eagerly  to  the  book  again:  she  had  not  yet 
read  the  last  two  or  three  chapters.  It  was  one 
of  these  that  roused  her  wrath  more  decisively  than 
perhaps  any  of  the  others.  The  author  had  repro- 
duced the  letter  written  by  Lady  Muncaster  to  her 
father  when  she  heard  the  report  that  the  first  Lady 
Belfield  was  yet  living.  This  part  of  the  book  was 
managed — Lady  Charlottle  acknowledged  it — with 
great  skill.  As  a  whole  the  volume  purported  to  be 
the  work  of  an  intimate  acquaintance — one  can  hardly 
say  a  friend — of  the  Belfields;  but  no  hint  of  age 
or  sex  was  given  by  the  writer,  who  might  have  been 
a  contemporary  of  Lady  Muncaster,  or  a  young  con- 
nection of  the  family,  to  whose  sacrilegious  mind 
nothing  was  more  sacred  than  to  Beranger's  noted 
sapeur.  It  did  not  purport  to  be  a  connected  history 
of  the  time,  or  a  memoir  of  the  statesman,  or  even  the 
record  of  a  family.  It  was  a  pot-pourri  of  anecdotes, 
conversations,  fragments  of  letters,  old  newspaper 
paragraphs,  worth  nothing  from  a  literary  point  of 
view,  but  very  amusing  and  very  readable.  Only 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  215 

Lady  Charlotte  could  estimate  how  far  the  value  of 
her  own  book  would  be  discounted  by  a  publication 
of  this  kind;  for  she  alone  knew  that  almost  every 
incident  of  importance,  every  interesting  phrase  and 
witty  bon-mot,  was  written  in  the  pages  before  her, 
for  the  amusement  of  the  world — ten  years  or  so 
before  the  proper  time. 

But  in  the  last  chapter,  there  was  an  attempt  at 
connected  narrative.  Here  the  author  changed  his 
style  a  little  and  did  not  give  names.  But  as  he  pre- 
served initials,  it  was  very  easy  to  identify  the  persons 

meant.  The  Earl  of  B was  naturally  Lord 

Belfield;  Lady  M stood  plain  for  the  Mar- 
chioness of  Muncaster:  there  were  unmistakable  ref- 
erences to  Lady  C B .  This  was  natural- 
ly the  most  objectionable  portion  of  the  book,  as  the 
author  of  it  could  dare  to  say  in  this  manner  things 
which  he  would  never  have  ventured  to  utter  when 
speaking  of  persons  by  their  full  names;  and  Lady 
Charlotte  writhed  under  the  conviction  that  although 
all  the  world  would  believe  what  was  said  or  hinted 
of  her  family,  she  could  never  obtain  redress;  for  no 
one  could  prove  that  the  author  had  meant  it  to  apply 
to  them. 

Here,  then,  under  the  disguise  of  initials,  he  re- 
counted the  history  of  "Some  Old  Marriages."  The 
first  one  was  the  marriage  of  Lord  Belfield  with  Miss 
Anketel  and  her  subsequent  elopement;  his  second 
marriage,  the  birth  of  a  daughter,  his  wife's  death, 
and  the  report  of  the  first  Countess'  reappearance; 
and  then,  worst  of  all,  to  Lady  Charlotte's  mind,  the 


216  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

letter  of  Lady  Muncaster  to  her  father,  detailing  the 
scandal  that  she  had  heard,  and  calling  on  him  to 
refute  it. 

At  this  point,  Lady  Charlotte  hastily  turned  over 
two  or  three  pages  as  if  searching  for  something;  but 
what  she  sought  was  not  to  be  found.  The  author, 
however,  made  a  comment  which  stung  his  reader 
to  the  quick.  "The  answer  to  this  letter,"  he  said, 

"is  not,  I  believe,  to  be  found  among  the  B 

papers,  and  in  the  absence  of  any  denial  on  Lord 

B 's  part — a  denial  which  would  surely  have 

been  most  carefully  preserved,  if  it  existed.''  Then 
the  writer  went  on  to  compassionate  Lady  Muncaster's 
position,  with  "a  husband  who  scorned  her  for  the 
accident  of  her  birth;  but  added,  with  a  touch  of  acri- 
mony, that  her  daughters  had  nevertheless  done  well 
in  the  world,  since  one  had  died  early,  leaving  an 
only  child,  and  the  other  had  married  a  man  who 
possessed  the  estimable  virtues  of  wealth  and  obedi- 
ence to  his  wife.  "It  seems  perhaps  fortunate,"  the 
writer  concluded,  with  something  of  a  smirk,  "that 
the  number  of  Lord  B 's  descendants  in  the  di- 
rect line  was  so  limited;  for  one  and  all  were  distin- 
guished for  some  eccentricity  in  their  love  affairs: 
even  the  youngest  and  fairest  of  the  line  had  lately 
chosen  to  leave  her  guardian's  house  because  her 
affections  refused  to  take  the  precise  direction  indi- 
cated by  those  in  authority  over  her.  The  young 
lady  in  question  is  now  said  to  be  solacing  herself  by 
philanthropy:  slumming  perhaps  being  more  to  her 
taste  than  continued  residence  with  a  lady  'whose 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  217 

foible  is  omniscience'  and  whose  chief  object  in  life 
to  trample  underfoot  all  the  inferior  persons  who  do 
not  come  of  such  distinguished  lineage  as  herself." 

"I  wonder  if  I  shall  'kill'  this  young  man?"  said 
Lady  Charlotte,  quite  calmly,  as  she  laid  the  book 
down  at  last,  and  rang  for  lights.  "It  seems  to  me 
the  fate  that  he  ought  to  expect  at  our  hands.  We 
should  have  done  it  without  compunction  in  any 
century  but  this.  But  of  course  he  trusts  to  his 
anonymity.  Does  Dorian  know  who  it  is?  I  must 
go  up  and  see  him  about  this." 

She  stood  still,  with  her  hands  behind  her,  looking 
at  Andrews  as  he  placed  the  lamp  on  the  table,  closed 
the  shutters  and  drew  the  curtains.  A  little  earlier 
she  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  the  gray  skies  shut 
out,  but  now  the  weather  was  entirely  forgotten. 
When  Andrews  had  retired  she  opened  the  old  cab- 
inet, which  she  now  kept  locked  much  more  carefully 
than  in  former  days,  and  instituted  a  very  careful 
search  among  her  papers,  now  and  then  carrying  one 
to  the  table  and  comparing  it  with  certain  pages  of 
the  manuscript.  The  result  often  surprised  her. 
"How  can  he  have  done  it?*'  she  asked  herself,  with 
knitted  brows.  "He  was  scarcely  ever  alone  in  the 
room  for  more  than  half  an  hour  at  a  time:  I,  or  How- 
ard, or  some  one,  was  constantly  in  and  out.  And 
if  he  had  neglected  the  work  I  gave  him  while  he 
copied  out  these  letters  and  memoranda,  I  should 
certainly  have  found  him  out.  His  work  was  always 
well  done,  I  remember.  He  must  have  got.  a  skeleton 


218  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

key,  and  copied  the  papers  at  night,  or  when  we  were 
in  the  garden." 

A  sudden  thought  struck  her,  and  she  rang  the 
bell  for  Andrews. 

"Andrews,"  said  his  mistress,  "are  these  windows 
always  fastened  securely  before  you  go  to  bed  at 
night?" 

"Certainly,  my  lady." 

"I  do  not  mean  simply  latched:  do  you  bolt  and 
bar  the  shutters  so  that  no  burglar  could  get  in? 
There  are  valuable  things  in  this  room,  remember." 

"The  bolts  and  bars  are  always  seen  to  every  night, 
my  lady.  Always  by  myself.  I  leave  it  to  nobody,r 
said  Andrews,  with  a  touch  of  respectful  offense  in 
his  tones. 

"You  have  never  omitted  that  practice?"  said  Char- 
lotte, fixing  him  with  her  imperious  eye  in  a  way  that 
would  have  made  a  less  immaculate  person  than  An- 
drews uncomfortable.  But  he  answered,  with  a  stiff- 
ness born  of  rectitude: 

"Except  when  I  have  been  away  for  an  'oliday, 
my  lady,  or  in  town  with  the  family,  I  have  never 
failed  to  bolt  these  shutters  myself  for  five  and  twen- 
ty year." 

Lady  Charlotte  could  go  no  further.  She  said, 
"Very  well,  Andrews:  you  are  right  to  be  careful/' 
and  gave  him  a  nod  of  dismissal. 

"I  hope  your  ladyship  has  not  missed  anything," 
said  Andrews  solemnly. 

"No,  I  think  not,  thank  you,  Andrews,"  said  his 
mistress,  who  could  be  very  gracious  to  her  servants 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  219 

when  she  chose.  But  the  graciousness  did  not  im- 
pose upon  Andrews,  who  left  the  room  perfectly  con- 
vinced that  there  was  something  wrong. 

Lady  Charlotte  turned  once  more  to  the  cabinet, 
and  continued  her  search.  There  was  one  paper 
missing,  certainly.  One  paper,  which  she  remem- 
bered now  she  had  not  seen  for  many  months — not 
indeed  since  Arthur  Ellison  left  the  house — the  one 
paper  which  would  be  important  to  her  if  she  were 
forced  to  make  some  public  repudiation  of  the  asper- 
sions thrown  upon  her  father's  fame.  It  was  that  let- 
ter to  his  daughter,  Lady  Muncaster,  in  answer  to 
the  inquiries  as  to  the  legality  of  her  mother's  mar- 
riage; and  it  contained  a  denial  of  the  story,  the 
refutal  of  the  slander,  which  Arthur  Ellison  had  de- 
clared in  his  book  to  be  authentic.  Was  it  possible 
that  he  had  stolen  this  one  paper,  and  then  suppressed 
it,  in  order  to  paint  Lord  Belfield  in  the  blackest  col- 
ors, and  to  stain  the  honor  of  a  family  who  had,  once 
at  any  rate,  been  kind  to  him? 

It  was  with  a  curiously  colorless  face  that  Lady 
Charlotte  at  last  shut  up  the  cabinet,  with  full  assur- 
ance that  the  paper  she  sought  was  not  there.  She 
had  always  thought  ill  of  Arthur  since  he  left 
Westhills,  but  she  was  scarcely  prepared  for  this  rev- 
elation of  his  treachery.  "It  must  have  been  going 
on  all  the  time  he  was  in  the  house/'  she  said  to  her- 
self as  she  glanced  once  more  at  his  neatly-written 
pages,  and  acknowledged  their  almost  daemonic  clev- 
erness: "The  materials  for  this  book  were  not  col- 


220  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

lected  in  an  hour.  And  this  was  the  man  that  Lisa 
loved!" 

She  had  forgotten  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  when  the 
gong  was  sounded  she  went  straight  into  the  dining- 
room,  without  a  word  of  apology  for  her  morning- 
dress.  Mr.  Byng  looked  at  her  in  wonderment,  not 
unmingled  with  a  little  fear.  Lady  Charlotte  liked  to 
dress  as  a  great  lady  at  dinner-time:  she  would  don 
velvet  and  diamonds  for  the  pleasure  of  the  thing, 
even  when  she  was  alone  with  her  husband;  and 
something  must  be  seriously  wrong  with  her,  he 
thought,  if  she  could  forget  the  dressing-bell. 

He  had  a  shock  when  dinner  was  over,  nevertheless. 
Instead  of  sitting  quietly  over  the  dessert,  his  wife 
got  up,  moved  restlessly  to  the  fireplace,  and  stood 
looking  at  the  fire  for  a  little  while.  "I  am  going 
up  to  London  to-morrow/'  she  said  at  last. 

"I  hope  the  weather  will  be  finer,"  said  Mr.  Byng 
politely. 

"Yes/'  she  said  mechanically.  Then  she  crossed 
the  room  towards  the  door,  but  paused  beside  his 
chair.  "You  don't  mind  being  left  so  much  alone,  do 
you,  Howard?"  she  said,  putting  one  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  It  was  this  action,  these  words,  that  gave 
Mr.  Byng  such  a  shock.  She  had  never  seemed  to 
care  whether  he  had  been  alone  or  not — and  distinctly 
he  did  not  like  it — and  she  had  not  rested  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder  in  that  way  for  years  and  years! 

"No,  no,  I  don't  mind — but,  Charlotte,  Charlotte, 
my  love,  are  you  ill?  Is  anything  the  matter?  I 
don't  understand,"  said  Mr.  Byng,  scrambling  to  his 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  221 

feet,  with  limbs  that  actually  trembled  under  him 
with  agitation. 

She  uttered  a  short  laugh,  and  took  her  hand  away. 
"Nothing's  the  matter,"  she  said,  "only  I  was  think- 
ing— what  fools  we  were,  Howard,  when  we  were 
married  first — a  good  many  years  ago." 

"My  dear — my  dear,"  stammered  Mr.  Byng,  utterly 
disconcerted  by  this  remark,  "I  was  not  a  fool  in  one 
respect — in — loving  you.''  And  he  put  one  hand  on 
hers. 

"Weren't  you?"  she  said,  in  a  softened  voice.  "Poor 
Howard,  I  should  have  thought  you  were  of  a  differ- 
ent opinion  by  this  time.  Well,  we're  all  alone:  we 
may  as  well  make  the  best  of  each  other,  may  we 
not?" 

"You've  had  bad  news  of  Lisa!"  said  her  husband, 
staring  at  her,  and  unconsciously  tightening  his  grasp 
of  her  hand.  She  dragged  it  loose  at  once,  and  flung 
from  him  impatiently. 

"It  is  always  Lisa  with  you,"  she  said  bitterly.  "You 
never  think  of  your  wife." 

It  was  a  very  untrue  accusation,  and  she  felt  that  it 
was  so,  almost  before  she  had  shut  the  door  behind 
her  and  left  him  to  finish  his  dessert  by  himself.  Mr. 
Byng,  sitting  dismally  in  front  of  the  decanters,  medi- 
tated much  on  the  nature  of  women  that  evening,  but 
made  no  actual  effort  to  come  to  a  clearer  under- 
standing of  the  one  with  whom  he  had  to  deal.  He 
was  a  slow  man,  and  when  he  had  next  morning  made 
up  his  mind  to  pay  his  wife  the  attention  of  bringing 
her  the  best  orchid-bloom  that  he  could  find,  she  had 


222  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

already  started  for  London,  and  he  was  forced  to 
postpone  his  amiable  intention. 

Lady  Charlotte  did  not  go  first  to  her  publisher's. 
She  went  to  Mr.  Furnival's  office  and  deposited  a  flat 
brown-paper  parcel  with  him,  telling  him  that  to  no 
one  but  herself  was  he  to  surrender  it.  Having  seen 
it  deposited  in  the  safe,  and  having  obtained  from  him 
a  certain  address,  she  went  straight  to  Mr.  Dorian's 
office. 

The  publisher  did  not  usually  come  to  his  office  so 
early  in  the  morning,  but  on  this  occasion  he  was 
seated  in  his  chair  of  state  and  displayed  some  per- 
turbation of  feeling  when  Lady  Charlotte  entered. 

"I  am  afraid,  Lady  Charlotte,  that  we've  made  a 
mistake  about  that  manuscript,"  he  said  to  her,  when 
he  had  shaken  hands  and  thought  what  a  handsome 
woman  she  was,  and  made  a  remark  about  the  state 
of  the  atmosphere. 

"I'm  afraid  you  have,"  said  she,  rather  grimly. 

"It  was  confided  to  me  in  the  strictest  confidence," 
he  said,  "and  if  I  had  known  the  nature  of  the  manu- 
script, I  should  never  even  have  glanced  at  it.  It  will 
be  returned  to  the  author  at  once.  I  am  only  sorry 
that  such  an  unfortunate  mistake  should  have  been 
made — that  the  book  should  have  been  sent  to  you, 
of  all  people,  was  most  disastrous — most  disastrous." 

"Then  you  don't  mean  to  publish  it?"  said  Lady 
Charlotte  bluntly. 

"Impossible — in  its  present  state/'  said  Mr.  Dorian, 
with,  a  courtly  air.  "It  is  almost  scandalous — it  con- 
tains details  which  I  think  must  be  malicious  inven- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  223 

tions;  and  I  would  not  for  the  world  do  anything 
to  wound  the  feelings  of  a  client  like  yourself — a  client, 
and,  I  hope,  a  friend " 

"If  you  don't  publish  it,  some  one  else  will,-  I  sup- 
pose," said  his  client  and  friend,  without  much  re- 
spect for  Mr.  Dorian's  civilities. 

Mr.  Dorian  started  slightly.  "You  do  not — desire 
— exactly  to  have  it  published?"  he  said,  in  a  blandly 
inexpressive  tone. 

"A  good  deal  of  it  is  contained  in  my  grandfather's 
memoir,  and  will  no  doubt  have  to  be  made  public 
in  time,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  fencing  in  her  turn. 
"If. I  could  meet  the  author  of  this  book,  I  might  be 
able  to  come  to  some  arrangement  with  him." 

"Arrangement !" 

"Yes,  as  to  what  was  to  be  published,  and  what 
left  out.  I  want  his  name,  Mr.  Dorian,  if  you  please." 

She  had  carefully  kept  all  excitement  out  of  her 
voice.  She  wanted  to  trap  him  into  giving  the  au- 
thor's name,  under  the  impression  that  she  meant  to 
treat  the  matter  in  a  friendly  spirit.  But  Mr.  Dorian 
was  not  to  be  beguiled. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  but  it  is  quite  impossible  for  me 
to  give  you  the  name  without  the  author's  consent," 
he  said.  "The  book  was  shown  me  in  the  strictest 
confidence — it  is  by  the  most  unlucky  of  mistakes  that 
your  ladyship  has  seen  a  page  of  it — and  although  I 
am  not  going  to  publish  it — oh,  certainly  not ! — I  can- 
not betray  a  professional  secret." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  rising  from 
her  chair.  "I  am  pleased  to  hear  that  you  don't  mean 


224  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

to  undertake  the  publication,  Mr.  Dorian.  It  would 
have  severed  our  connection  at  once  if  you  had  done 
so.  As  to  the  author's  name,  I  asked  as  a  matter  of 
form:  but  I  know  it  perfectly  well.  It  is  Arthur  Elli- 
son; and  I  am  going  to  him  now." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  225 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LADY   CHARLOTTE'S   CONDITIONS. 

Arthur  Ellison  had  been  fairly  prosperous  of  late. 
But  with  his  prosperity  he  had  developed  also  a  kind 
of  carefulness,  not  characteristic  of  his  later  days;  the 
eye  to  the  main  chance,  which  he  had  always  pos- 
sessed, having  become  quicker  and  keener  with  use. 
Hence,  he  had  not  removed  into  fashionable  apart- 
ments, even  when  he  had  money  in  hand:  he  con- 
tented himself  with  comfortable  rooms  in  rather  a 
remote  part  of  Kensington,  and  did  not  try  to  make 
any  show,  except  among  his  friends  at  the  club  or  the 
restaurant  that  he  frequented.  His  second-floor  sit- 
ting-room and  bedroom,  opening  out  of  one  another, 
were  all  that  he  required  for  the  present;  and  the  fact 
that  his  sitting-room  overlooked  a  rather  noisy  thor- 
oughfare, was,  in  his  opinion,  an  advantage,  for  it 
gave  him  something  to  look  at  when  he  was  in  the 
mood  for  idleness.  And  after  all,  the  room  was  com- 
fortable, and  even  luxurious,  with  its  soft  lounges  and 
deep  arm-chairs,  and  the  pictures  on  the  walls  were 
after  his  own  heart,  for  he  had  replaced  the  lodging- 
house  chromos  by  photogravures  of  Watts'  and 
Burne-Jones'  pictures,  by  autotypes  of  the  old  mas- 
ters. These  pictures  and  a  few  books  in  excellent 
bindings  were,  he  used  to  say,  his  one  extravagance. 
It  was  possible  that  he  had  more  than  one,  but  he 

15 


226  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

only  owned  to  the  pictures  and  the  books — such  re- 
fined, even  praiseworthy,  tastes  for  a  rising  young 
journalist  and  literary  man. 

He  had  had  a  chequered  career  since  he  left  West- 
hills.  The  prospective  engagement  of  marriage  to 
Miss  Dorian  had  fallen  through,  rather  through  Ar- 
thur's own  carelessness  than  from  any  unwillingness 
on  the  lady's  part.  Sooth  to  say,  he  had  begun  to 
think  that  he  could  do  better  for  himself  than  marry 
Fanny  Dorian.  There  must  have  been  some  great 
attractions  about  him — to  women,  at  least;  for  he  was 
always  petted  and  made  much  of  by  them,  whitherso- 
ever he  went.  And  at  this  time,  he  was  thinking, 
not  without  satisfaction,  of  a  certain  Miss  Crespigny, 
a  handsome  girl  with  three  thousand  a  year,  and  no 
relations  to  speak  of,  who  was  quite  ready  to  marry 
him  whenever  he  should  throw  the  handkerchief.  She 
was  a  Creole,  with  a  dangerously  volcanic  tempera- 
ment; but  Arthur  was  prepared  to  accept  all  risks 
for  the  sake  of  three  thousand  a  year. 

In  the  meantime  he  wanted  money,  for,  although  he 
was  willing  to  accept  his  wife's  thousands,  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  dependent  upon  her  altogether.  If  he 
could  achieve  fame — or,  at  least,  notoriety — as  well, 
he  felt  that  he  should  be  able  to  meet  Miss  Crespigny 
on  tolerably  equal  terms.  So  he  had  set  to  work  on 
his  recollections  and  his  notes  of  Lord  Belfield's  mem- 
oirs, and  he  had,  by  means  of  an  excellent  memory 
and  some  invention,  produced  a  book  which  would 
most  assuredly  set  London  talking,  if  ever  it  saw  the 
light. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  227 

Mr.  Dorian  had  not  been  quite  frank  with  Lady 
Charlotte  when  he  told  her  that  he  would  not  pub- 
lish the  book  that  Arthur  had  sent  to  him.  If  the 
manuscript  had  not  so  unluckily  fallen  into  her  hands, 
he  would  have  been  only  too  happy  to  publish  it — 
with  the  omission,  perhaps,  of  a  few  details  which 
had  struck  him  as  indiscreet.  He  had  not,  however, 
announced  his  final  acceptance  of  the  book  to  Ar- 
thur, and  this  left  him  free  to  tell  Lady  Charlotte, 
with  an  air  of  vistuous  repudiation,  that  he  did  not 
intend  to  publish  it  at  all. 

Arthur  was  hopeful.  He  meant  to  ask  for  a  roy- 
alty on  each  copy,  and  he  believed  that  it  would  sell 
like  wildfire,  and  that  he  would  make  a  fortune.  The 
secret  of  his  identity  he  meant  to  have  very  strictly 
kept — for  a  time.  When  the  storm  was  over — for  he 
knew  that  there  would  be  a  storm — he  thought  he 
might  venture  to  let  it  be  known  in  the  literary  world 
that  he  was  the  author  of  "that  celebrated  book — 
A  Politician  of  the  Old  School,"  and  he  could  then 
risk  the  danger  of  Lady  Charlotte's  denunciations,  or 
the  threat  of  a  thrashing  from  Justin  Thorold,  or  any 
of  the  other  possibilities  hanging  over  his  head.  Of 
prosecution  he  had  no  fear.  He  had  done  nothing 
that  could  bring  him  within  reach  of  the  law.  Lady 
Charlotte's  papers,  with  one  exception,  were  intact 
He  had  only  made  use  of  what  his  memory  and  his 
note-book  had  brought  away. 

He  reflected  pleasantly  on  his  prospects,  as  he  stood 
before  his  window  one  morning,  and  looked  out  on 
the  busy  street.  There  was  not  much  change  on  him 


228  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

since  the  day  when  he  had  left  Westhills,  or  refused 
to  marry  Lisa  Daubeny.  The  slight,  almost  boyish 
figure  was  as  alert  as  ever,  the  brilliant  eyes  were 
as  blue  as  a  bit  of  the  northern  seas;  but  there  was 
an  indefinable  hardening  of  all  the  delicate  features, 
and  some  tired  lines  at  the  corners  of  the  eyes  and 
mouth,  which  gave  a  less  agreeable  expression  to 
his  appearance  than  in  days  of  old.  But  there  was 
more  hardihood,  more  assurance  in  his  manner,  and 
he  had  taken  on  the  so-called  "polish"  of  a  man  of  the 
world,  which  by  some  people  was  admired  and  by 
others  thought  utterly  detestable. 

Lady  Charlotte  was  of  the  latter  class.  When  she 
walked  straight  into  the  sitting-room  that  morning 
she  felt  more  contempt  than  pity  for  the  fair  young 
fellow  in  his  quilted  silk  dressing-gown,  his  gorgeous 
smoking-cap  and  embroidered  slippers,  who  stood 
at  the  window  with  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth  and  a 
yellow-backed  novel  in  one  hand.  He  was  such  a 
bubble,  such  a  trivial  thing,  such  a  straw  to  bend  and 
break,  that  he  scarcely  deserved  the  pains  which  she 
would  have  to  take  to  crush  him.  And  Arthur,  turn- 
ing round  from  the  window,  and  meeting  those  scorn- 
ful eyes  of  hers  quite  suddenly,  faltered  and  turned 
pale,  as  if  he  knew  that  his  hour  of  doom  had  come. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  recovering  his 
self-possession  but  speaking  with  white  lips,  "I  did  not 
expect  a  lady.  If  you'll  excuse  me,  I  will  put  on  my 
coat  and  be  back  directly." 

He  made  a  step  in  the  direction  of  his  bedroom,  but 
Lady  Charlotte  calmly  planted  herself  in  his  way. 


THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE.  229 

"Excuse  me/'  she  said.  "I  would  rather  you  did 
not  leave  this  room  for  a  few  minutes.  You  might 
wish  to  go  out  by  the  other  door,  and  I  have  a  par- 
ticular reason  for  desiring  to  speak  with  you  first. 
This  door,  I  have  already  locked,  and  you  will  oblige 
me  by  not  going  out  by  the  other." 

Arthur  was  petrified  by  astonishment  and  terror. 
He  thought  that  Lady  Charlotte  was  about  to  call 
him  to  account  for  his  behavior  to  Lisa- — after  all 
these  months!  The  thing  that  really  happened  never 
occurred  to  him.  He  did  not  know  that  Lady  Char- 
lotte had  renewed  her  old  relations  with  Mr.  Dorian, 
and  he  was  quite  sure  that  Dorian  would  never  take 
her  into  his  confidence  regarding  the  publication  of 
the  "Politician."  He  could  only  regard  her  with 
shrinking  aversion — for  he  was  not  brave,  and  cast  a 
furtive  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  bell-rope.  Lady 
Charlotte's  indignant  moods  were  so  incomprehensi- 
ble to  him,  that  he  looked  upon  her  sometimes  as  no 
better  than  a  raving  lunatic. 

"I — I  don't  understand  what  you  can  have  to  say 
to  me,  Lady  Charlotte,"  he  stammered  out. 

"You  will  understand  quite  well  in  a  minute  or 
two,"  said  his  guest,  with  composure.  "We  need  not 
protract  our  interview.  No  doubt  you  will  be  as  glad 
to  see  the  last  of  me,  as  I  of  you." 

"Your  ladyship  was  always  complimentary,"  said 
Arthur,  with  irony  which  showed  that  he  was  recov- 
ering himself. 

Lady  Charlotte  ignored  the  remark.  She  sat  down 
at  the  center-table,  with  her  back  to  the  bedroom 


230  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

door,  so  that  he  could  not  make  use  of  that  exit, 
placed  a  little  brown  leather  bag  on  the  table  before 
her,  and  deliberately  took  off  her  gloves.  "I  have 
come  on  business,''  she  said,  "and  I  shall  be  glad  if 
you  will  give  me  your  attention  for  a  minute  or  two. 
You  may  not  be  aware  that  I  have  resumed  my  old 
acquaintance  with  Mr.  Dorian.'' 

Arthur  changed  color,  and  moved  restlessly  from 
one  foot  to  the  other.  He  was  standing  at  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  and  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
he  looked  like  a  little  boy  in  front  of  a  stern  precep- 
tress, and  felt  that  Lady  Charlotte  wanted  to  make 
him  ridiculous.  He  put  his  hand  on  the  back  of  a 
light  cane  chair  and  swung  it  round. 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  it,"  he  said  politely. 

"I  have  long  been  in  the  habit,"  Lady  Charlotte 
continued  in  a  peculiar  monotone,  as  of  a  person  that 
had  previously  rehearsed  the  speech  more  than 
once,  "of  reading  and  giving  my  opinion  on  manu- 
scripts which  Mr.  Dorian  has  submitted  to  me.  He 
wrote  me  a  note  yesterday  asking  me  to  look  at  a 
manuscript  which  had  recently  been  sent  to  him;  and 
the  manuscript  came  by  post  at  the  same  time." 

There  was  surely  no  need  for  her  to  ask  Arthur 
whether  her  hearer  understood.  Every  vestige  of  col- 
or had  fled  from  his  face,  and  his  knees  were  mani- 
festly shaking  under  him.  He  seated  himself  and 
covered  his  mouth  with  one  hand:  a  significant  ges- 
ture in  Lady  Charlotte's  eyes. 

"Unfortunately,"  she  said  slowly,  "unfortunately, 
that  is,  for  Mr.  Dorian,  whom  the  mistake  has  made 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  231 

annoyed,  the  clerk  made  a  blunder  about  the  parcels 
of  manuscript;  and  the  one  submitted  to  me  was  not 
the  harmless  volume  of  travels  in  the  East  which  it 
should  have  been — but  a  work  of  a  very  different 
character — anything  but  harmless  in  intention,  Mr. 
Ellison:  a  book  bearing  the  title  of  'A  Politician  of 
the  Old  School' — you  recognize  it,  I  perceive?" 

There  was  a  dead  pause.  Then  Arthur,  with  a 
sensation  as  if  all  the  blood  in  his  body  were  surging 
to  his  face,  took  his  hand  from  his  mouth  and  an- 
swered hardily: 

"I  never  heard  of  it  in  my  life." 

"You  lie!"  flashed  out  Lady  Charlotte  immediate- 
ly, with  fire  in  her  eyes,  "you  lie,  and  you  know  you 
do.  You  wrote  it  yourself — every  word  of  it." 

"Pardon  me,  you  have  not  the  slightest  right  to 
make  any  such  statement.  I  presume  Mr.  Dorian 
cannot  have  mentioned  my  name  in  the  matter,  in- 
deed, why  should  he?  The  similarity  of  subject  has 
possibly  led  you  to  fancy  that  I  wrote  it,  but " 

"Similarity  of  subject?  I  did  not  mention  the  sub- 
ject. You  betray  yourself,  you  see." 

Arthur  bit  his  lips.  "I  meant — one  knows  the  sub- 
ject on  which  your  ladyship's  mind  is  fixed,"  he  said, 
trying  hard  for  self-possession. 

"Am  I  so  limited?"  said  Lady  Charlotte  with  irony. 
Then,  in  graver  tone:  "It  is  useless  to  deny  facts, 
Mr.  Ellison.  Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  your  hand- 
writing? I  know  every  turn  of  it  to  my  cost.  I  have 
folios  of  it  at  home,  which  the  manuscript  you  sent 
to  Dorian's  reproduces  line  by  line.  The  testimony 


232  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

of  an  expert  would  not  be  needed.  The  handwriting 
is  quite  unmistakable.'' 

Arthur  started  up,  and  swore.  He  was  too  angry, 
and  too  desperate  to  restrain  himself.  Lady  Char- 
lotte smiled;  for  the  ejaculation  had  told  her  that  she 
had  practically  gained  the  day. 

"I  have  come  here,"  she  said,  "to  hear  you  ac- 
knowledge it,  and  I  shall  not  leave  this  room  until 
you  have  done  so." 

"I  don't  see  what  good  you  will  get  from  that,  Lady 
Charlotte.  It  is  not  much  good  waiting  for  me  to 
acknowledge  what  I  have  not  done.  I  know  noth- 
ing of  your  manuscript." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  "I  will  see 
that  it  is  destroyed.  If  you  disown  it,  I  am  sure  that 
no  one  else  will  care  to  claim  it." 

Arthur's  eyelid  twitched:  the  muscles  of  his  face 
worked  for  a  moment.  Then  he  decided  to  alter  his 
position,  for  it  was  quite  evident  that  Lady  Char- 
lotte was  not  to  be  dislodged  from  hers.  He  tried 
to  laugh,  but  the  laugh  was  something  of  a  failure. 

"One  is  always  permitted  to  disown  one's  own 
books:  it  is  a  thing  allowable  in  literature,"  he  said, 
with  a  pretense  of  ease.  "Your  ladyship's  penetra- 
tion has  not  failed  you  on  this  occasion.  May  I  ask 
—what  then?" 

"You  acknowledge  that  you  wrote  that  book — of 
which  you  stole  every  word  of  the  materials?" 

"Stole — 'Convey,  the  wise  it  call' — is  a  hard  word, 
Lady  Charlotte.  I  have  as  much  right  as  anyone  else 
to  collect  historical  reminiscences  and  publish  them. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  233 

Lord  Belfield  was  a  public  man:  even  his  own  fam- 
ily have  no  right  to  suppress  the  details  of  his  career." 

"I  think  you  are  aware,  however,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte, with  dangerous  smoothness,  "that  by  a  clause 
in  Lord  Belfield's  will  he  prohibits  the  publication  of 
these  details  until  the  year  1900?" 

"No,"  said  the  young  man,  coolly,  "you  must  ex- 
cuse me  if  I  say  that  he  does  not.  He  forbids  the 
publication  of  his  journals  and  private  letters.  If 
you  have  looked  at  all  carefully  at  my  little  attempt, 
you  must  have  seen  that  in  no  case  is  a  letter  quoted 
entirely,  or  the  journal  reproduced  word  for  word. 
My  memory  is  good,  but  it  was  not  good  enough  for 
that;  and  perhaps  this  was  fortunate  for  me,  and 
has  prevented  me  from  infringing  on  the  rights  of 
Lord  Belfield's  executors." 

"I  noticed  that  your  cleverness  had  kept  you  tolera- 
bly on  the  safe  side,"  said  Lady  Charlotte  dryly,  "but 
I  am  not  so  sure  as  you  seem  to  be  that  I  could  not 
prevent  the  publication  of  the  book  by  legal  methods. 
However,  I  am  not  going  to  do  that." 

Arthur  could  not  forbear  a  little  bow  and  smile. 
"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said.  And  indeed  the 
color  had  returned  to  his  lips.  He  thought  the  worst 
was  over,  and  it  had  not  been  so  bad  as  might  have 
been  expected.  "My  manuscript  then  is  safe  in  Mr. 
Dorian's  hands?"  he  inquired  casually.  "It  is  not 
with  you,  I  see." 

"Not  at  present,"  said  Lady  Charlotte.  "Mr.  Furn- 
ival,  my  lawyer,  has  got  it  at  this  moment;  But  you 


234  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

need  not  be  alarmed:  it  will  be  returned  to  you  quite 
safely — I  will  see  that  it  is  sent." 

"Many  thanks.  It  might  even  go  back  to  Mr. 
Dorian's/'  said  Arthur  tentatively.  He  could  not  as 
yet  make  out  why  Lady  Charlotte  had  come,  or  what 
she  meant  to  do.  The  interview  was  almost  too 
amicable  for  security. 

"Oh,  no,  it  is  no  use  sending  it  to  Dorian's,"  said 
his  visitor,  "or  to  any  other  publisher.  It  is  not  a 
book  that  is  going  to  be  published,  Mr.  Ellison.'' 

Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  really  do  not 
see  who  can  prevent  it,"  he  said,  almost  insolently. 

"I  can."  The  words  were  rapped  out  strongly  and 
sharply,  like  pistol-shots.  "I  can — and  will.  I  have 
come  here  for  that  purpose.  I  am  going  to  prevent 
you." 

"I  should  like  to  know  how/'  said  the  author,  sneer- 
ing. "You  see,  I  have  my  materials  ready  to  my 
hand,  Lady  Charlotte.  Even  if  I  were  to  destroy  this 
manuscript,  it  would  be  perfectly  easy  for  me  to  pro- 
duce another.  I  do  not  quite  see  how  you  are  going 
to  put  the  shackles  which  you  are  so  fond  of  employ- 
ing, on  my  pen  and  on  my  brain. 

"Nevertheless,  that  is  just  what  I  am  going  to  do," 
said  Lady  Charlotte.  She  opened  her  brown  leather 
bag,  and  took  out  a  paper  or  two,  which  she  laid 
before  her  on  the  table.  Arthur  eyed  them  furtively. 
Was  she  going  to  offer  him  a  bribe?" 

"I  warn  you,  Lady  Charlotte,"  he  said,  putting  on 
an  air  of  bravado,  "that  I  will  not  take  money  for  the 
suppression  of  truth." 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  235 

"Wait  till  I  offer  you  money,"  she  answered  dryly. 
"I  have  no  intention  of  doing  it  at  present.  Now,  Mr. 
Ellison,  the  matter  stands  thus.  You  came  into  my 
house,  giving  me  your  word  that  you  would  not  be- 
tray the  contents  of  any  papers  you  might  happen 
to  see.  I  trusted  you — foolishly,  as  it  seems — and 
gave  you  every  opportunity  of  handling  my  grand- 
father's papers  and  other  valuable  documents.  It  ap- 
pears that  you  copied  or  took  notes  in  a  most  dishon- 
orable manner  of  all  you  read;  and  that  you  have 
turned  it  to  your  own  ends  by  writing  a  book  about 
my  family — a  book  that  is  a  tissue  of  lies  and  misrep- 
resentations from  end  to  end.  Also,  you  have,  I  be- 
lieve, willfully  suppressed  one  letter,  which  I  suppose 
you  stole  from  my  desk,  the  letter  from  Lord  Belfield 
which  entirely  refutes  the  calumny  about  his  second 
marriage.  You  have  that  letter  now  in  your  pos- 
session, and  I  shall  ask  you  presently  to  hand  it  over 
to  me." 

Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  am  sorry  that 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  gratify  you,"  he  said. 

"We  will  see  presently.  Well,  Mr.  Ellison,  I  am 
going  to  send  that  base  and  treacherous  production 
of  yours  back  to  you;  but  not  until  you  have  com- 
plied with  certain  conditions  of  mine." 

"Conditions!  I  shall  comply  with  no  condi- 
tions  " 

He  looked  round  the  room  uneasily,  seeking  for  a 
way  of  escape.  It  began  to  occur  to  him  that 
flight  was  his  safest  course  when  he  was  .engaged  in 
a  contest  with  Lady  Charlotte  Byng.  But  there  was 


236  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

no  way  of  getting  out  of  the  room  except  by  subju- 
gating his  opponent  physically,  for  she  literally  barred 
the  way  to  his  bedroom,  and  the  other  door  was 
locked.  If  he  had  never  before  cursed  his  want  of 
thews  and  sinews,  he  cursed  it  now.  He  would  have 
been  powerless  in  Lady  'Charlotte's  vigorous  hands. 
She  saw  the  look  and  smiled.  For  the  first  time,  he 
began  to  feel  really  afraid  of  her:  a  pang  of  curiously 
unreasoning  fear  shot  through  him,  as  he  saw  that 
cold  and  almost  cruel  smile.  She  did  not  look  'ike 
the  woman  that  he  had  known.  He  had  seen  her  hot, 
angry,  vehement,  excited ;  but  she  was  cold  as  ice  and 
hard  as  a  stone. 

"I  have  here,"  she  said,  indicating  the  papers  be- 
fore her,  "made  a  rough  draft  of  a  statement  which 
I  mean  you  to  write  and  sign  in  my  presence.  I  think 
it  would  be  advisable  for  me  to  have  some  such  state- 
ment in  my  possession,  not  necessarily  to  be  made 
public,  but  for  my  own  satisfaction.  I  want  it  all  in 
your  own  handwriting — you  have  a  beautifully  clear 
hand,  I  know — so  that  there  may  be  no  question  of 
your  having  signed  the  paper  with  the  contents  of 
which  you  were  not  sufficiently  acquainted." 

"I  will  sign  no  paper,"  said  Arthur  Ellison,  draw- 
ing away  from  the  table.  But  the  look  of  anxiety 
in  his  eyes  was  increasing.  They  roamed  from  side 
to  side  like  the  eyes  of  a  wild  animal  in  a  snare. 

"You  will  state,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  without 
heeding  his  exclamations,  "that  you  had  access  to 
my  papers,  and,  contrary  to  your  promise,  you  sur- 
reptitiously and  treacherously  took  notes  of  their  con- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  237 

tents;  that  you  afterwards  embodied  what  you  had 
read  in  a  manuscript  entitled  'A  Politician  of  the  Old 
School/  and  that  you  used  every  device  in  your  power 
to  blacken  Lord  Belfield's  character  and  to  misrepre- 
sent the  events  of  his  life." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do,"  said  Arthur,  starting  up. 
But  Lady  Charlotte  went  on. 

"You  will  also  state  that  you  stole  a  letter  from 
Lord  Belfield  in  which  he  disproves  the  accusations 
of  bad  faith  brought  against  him  with  respect  to  his 
first  wife's  death  and  his  second  marriage.  You  may 
remember  that  you  insinuate  in  your  book  that  that 
letter  was  purposely  withheld  by  his  executors,  and 
that  Lady  Muncaster  was  illegitimate.  You  will 
write  down,  on  this  paper,  that  you  told  a  deliberate 
lie,  and  that  you  humbly  beg  my  pardon  for  it,  and 
for  the  other  lies  and  slanders  contained  in  your  vile 
and  abominable  book.  You  will  hardly  dare  to  pub- 
lish it,  when  I  have  this  paper  in  my  possession,  Mr. 
Ellison." 

"You  accursed  old  witch,  get  out  of  my  room!" 
cried  the  young  man  in  an  access  of  helpless  fury. 
"Do  you  think  I'll  set  my  name  to  a  paper  of  that 
kind?  Why,  it  would  damn  me  for  life.  I — I — Pd 
die  first." 

"You  can  choose,"  said  Lady  Charlotte  calmly. 
"You  know  me  well  enough  to  be  aware  that  I  never 
threaten  without  meaning  to  perform,  don't  you? 
Now,  look  here.  It  sounds  melodramatic,  but  it  isn't: 
it's  deadly  earnest.  You  will  do  what  I  tell  you,  or 
I  shall  shoot  you  dead.  I  have  made  up  my  mind." 


238  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

And  she  displayed  before  his  eyes  a  pretty  shining 
silver-mounted  toy  which  Arthur  suddenly  remem- 
bered to  have  seen  in  the  library  at  Westhills  and 
which,  he  had  been  told,  Lady  Charlotte  could  use 
with  unerring  skill.  She  used  to  practice  at  a  mark 
on  rainy  afternoons. 

With  that  revolver  pointing  straight  in  his  face, 
and  Lady  Charlotte's  finger  on  the  trigger,  there  was 
nothing  for  Arthur  to  do  but  to  cower  away  from  her 
in  his  chair  and  to  cry  hoarsely,  "For  God's  sake, 
wait!" 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  239 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NEMESIS. 

"I  will  wait,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  lowering  her 
weapon,  "but  I  shall  not  wait  for  very  long.  You  may 
have  a  few  minutes  in  which  to  discuss  the  matter 
further,  if  you  like,  and  to  make  up  your  mind.  You 
will  write  what  I  dictate,  and  sign  the  paper,  or  I 
shall  shoot  you  like  a  dog.  I  have  done  it  before, 
when  I  was  traveling  in  Syria." 

"But  we  are  in  England — a  civilized  country '' 

"Some  of  us  are  none  the  more  civilized  for  all 
that.  An  Arab  who  eats  your  salt  is  at  least  faithful 
to  you  for  life:  if  not,  you  shoot  him  down  remorse- 
lessly. An  Englishman  apparently  thinks  he  can 
lie  and  thieve  and  slander  as  he  pleases,  and  that  there 
is  no  one  to  call  him  to  account;  but  if  he  has  to 
deal  with  me,  he  is  mistaken." 

"It  is  not  loaded,"  said  Arthur,  trying  to  brave  tile 
matter  out. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is,  and  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  threat- 
en without  meaning  what  I  say.  I  have  used  it  be- 
fore. If  a  man  proves  himself  worthless,  his  life  had 
better  end.  He's  dangerous  to  society." 

"But — you  forget — the  law — the  law  will  take  ven- 
geance on  you." 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  the  law,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
coolly.  "Do  you  think  I  lay  my  plans  no  'better  than 


240  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

that?  Your  landlady  and  her  servants  are  down  on 
the  ground-floor:  the  noise  of  a  shot  will  not  alarm 
anybody  very  particularly.  I  shall  go  back  to  West- 
hills,  and  nobody  will  even  question  me  on  the  sub- 
ject. You  will  be  supposed  to  have  committed  sui- 
cide." 

"Are  you  a  fiend?"  cried  the  young  man  wildly. 
"Or  only  a  mad  woman?  Oh,  my  God,  what  am  I 
to  do?" 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  began  to  sob 
hysterically.  Lady  Charlotte,  with  her  hand  on  the 
revolver,  watched  him  grimly,  like  remorseless  fate. 

"There  is  no  help  for  you,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a 
low  but  perfectly  determined  tone.  "You  are  bound 
to  do  what  I  wish.  And  you  may  be  thankful  that 
I  have  given  you  a  chance  for  your  life.  My  grand- 
father would  have  shot  you  down  without  question 
or  parley." 

"He  was  a  brute,"  said  Arthur,  with  white  lips 
and  staring  eyes. 

"You  have  had  time  to  consider,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte dryly.  "Have  you  made  your  decision  yet?" 

She  slightly  raised  the  pistol.  He  shrank  back  and 
put  up  one  trembling  hand  between  the  weapon  and 
his  head. 

"Give  me  the  paper,"  he  cried.  "Sign!  Good  God, 
yes!  I'll  sign  anything — anything;  but  for  heaven's 
sake,  put  that  thing  away!" 

"You  are  a  coward  in  grain,  Mr.  Ellison,"  she  said, 
as  she  quietly  lowered  her  weapon,  and  pushed  the 
paper  toward  him.  "I  should  have  been  better  pre- 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  241 

pared  for  this  interview  if  I  had  brought  a  horsewhip 
instead  of  a  revolver.  You  would  lick  the  dust,  I 
believe,  sooner  than  let  me  flick  you  across  the  face.'' 

"You — you  have  the  advantage  of  me,  with  a 
weapon  in  your  hand,"  said  Arthur  hoarsely.  He  was 
prepared  to  submit,  but  he  could  not  deny  himself  a 
gibe.  But  Lady  Charlotte  was  always  ready  with  a 
repartee. 

"You  see,  one  does  not  approach  honorable  men 
with  weapons:  it  is  not  necessary  in  their  case,"  she 
said.  Then,  curtly,  and  with  a  terrible  frown,  she 
gave  the  order — "Write!" 

The  young  man  obeyed  with  slavish  haste. 

His  hand  trembled,  so  that  he  could  scarcely  guide 
his  pen,  and  it  was  evident  that  his  eyes  were  dim 
with  fear.  His  handwriting  was  unlike  itself:  a  fact 
of  which  Lady  Chaclotte  took  careful  note.  "Take 
time,"  she  said.  "Don't  spoil  your  handwriting  by 
overhaste,  man.  It  is  too  beautiful  to  be  spoilt — or 
forgotten." 

"What  am  I  to  write?  I  don't  know,"  said  Arthur, 
dashing  down  his  pen.  "You  make  me  accuse  myself 
of  things " 

"Of  the  things  that  you  have  done,"  said  his  visitor, 
implacably.  "Go  on:  copy  my  words.  They  are  leg- 
ible enough,  on  the  other  paper.  And  you  will  give 
me  back  the  letter  written  by  my  grandfather  to  my 
mother?'' 

Arthur  groaned,  and  shaded  his  eyes  with  one  hand, 
while  he  wrote,  but  he  made  no  reply.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments, he  had  reached  the  end  of  the  document,  and 

16 


242  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

was  about  to  sign,  when  Lady  Charlotte  stayed  his 
hand.  "Wait  a  moment,"  she  said.  "I  should  like 
your  signature  witnessed,  if  you  please.  Who  is  in 
the  house  that  can  act  as  a  witness?  Your  landlady?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  young  man,  drearily. 

"Ring  the  bell  for  her,  then.  And  pull  yourself 
together — don't  look  as  if  you  had  just  been  beaten. 
Only  remember,  there's  no  evasion  possible,  now 
that  this  paper  is  written,  it  has  to  be  signed — or  my 
warning  holds  good." 

She  put  the  revolver  back  into  the  bag,  produced 
the  key  from  her  pocket,  and  unlocked  the  door,  while 
Arthur,  after  ringing  the  bell,  sank  helplessly  back 
into  his  chair  without  much  attempt  to  regain  an  ap- 
pearance of  self-command.  Lady  Charlotte,  stand- 
ing at  the  table,  glanced  at  him  contemptuously,  but 
did  not  speak  until  the  landlady,  summoned  by  the 
maid,  made  her  appearance  in  the  room.  Lady  Char- 
lotte's black  brows  cleared  as  if  by  magic,  and  she 
turned  a  frank  ingratiating  smile  upon  the  woman. 

"We  have  ventured  to  trouble  you,"  she  said,  "be- 
cause Mr.  Ellison  has  been  drawing  up  an  important 
document,  which  he  wants  to  have  witnessed.  I  will 
be  one  witness — here's  my  card;  Mrs.  Jevons,  your 
name  is,  I  believe — if  you  will  kindly  be  the  other." 

"I  hope  it's  nothing  that  will  bring  any  trouble  to 
anybody,  my  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Jevons,  hesitating  be- 
tween respect  for  a  title  and  concern  at  the  misery 
plainly  written  on  Arthur's  face.  Arthur  was  intense- 
ly miserable;  for,  after  all,  how  callous  soever  you 
may  be,  it  is  no  light  thing  to  write  yourself  a  liar 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  243 

and  a  traitor,  and  see  your  signature  formally  wit- 
nessed to  the  document,  which  is  afterwards  to  remain 
in  the  possession  of  your  bitterest  enemy.  Arthur 
Ellison  had  some  reason  to  be  wretched;  and  he  did 
not  care  to  disguise  the  fact. 

"Not  at  all,  Mrs.  Jevons,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
briskly.  "It's  the  sort  of  thing  that  he  will  be  more 
and  more  pleased  to  have  done,  the  more  he  thinks 
of  it.  Now,  Mr.  Ellison,  please:  we  are  waiting  to 
see  your  signature." 

The  touch  of  sharpness  in  her  tone  made  Mrs. 
Jevons  glance  at  her  curiously.  "A  lady  with  a  tem- 
per of  her  own,  I  doubt,"  sfie  said  to  herself,  and 
looked  at  her  lodger  with  pity.  "It's  plain  she's  made 
him  do  something  that  he  didn't  want  to  do.  Well, 
it's  no  business  of  mine,  I'm  sure,  but  I  wonder  what 
it's  all  about.'' 

She  could  not  see  what  was  written  on  the  paper, 
for  it  was  folded  over,  so  she  watched  Arthur  discon- 
tentedly as  he  scrawled  his  name,  and  then  wrote  her 
own  beneath  Lady  Charlotte's,  and  hoped  that  she 
had  not  committed  herself  to  anything  very  terrible. 
"It  must  be  all  right  when  a  great  lady  like  that's  at 
the  bottom  of  it,"  she  said  to  herself;  and  this  con- 
viction was  strengthened  as  Lady  Charlotte  pressed 
a  sovereign  into  her  hand  at  the  door.  She  went 
down-stairs  with  a  joyful  heart,  and  Lady  Charlotte 
was  left  with  her  defeated  enemy. 

"Let  me  see,"  she  said,  taking  up  the  paper,  and 
she  proceeded  to  read  the  document  aloud,,  with  clear 
and  cutting  emphasis,  while  Arthur  sat  and  winced 


244  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

as  at  the  touch  of  red-hot  iron  upon  his  naked  flesh. 
He  would  willingly  have  killed  her  at  that  moment, 
if  he  could;  he  would  have  liked  to  choke  her  into 
silence  with  his  hands.  But  if  Lady  Charlotte  per- 
ceived his  rage  and  pain,  she  was  rather  pleased  than 
otherwise.  "That  is  right,"  she  said,  when  she  had 
finished.  "This  paper  brands  you  by  your  own  con- 
fession as  a  liar  and  a  thief,  and  it  would  utterly 
destroy  your  character  in  decent  people's  eyes  if  I 
made  it  public.  You  see  that,  do  you  not?  Now,  if 
you  publish  that  book,  or  any  book  at  all  like  it,  deal- 
ing in  any  way  with  my  family,  Arthur  Ellison,  I  shall 
immediately  publish  this  paper.  Do  you  understand?" 

He  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

"And  now  suppose  you  give  me  Lord  Belfield's  let- 
ter,'' she  said  calmly. 

He  was  utterly  cowed.  He  turned  to  a  little  draw- 
er in  his  bureau,  and  took  out  a  sheaf  of  papers.  From 
these  he  selected  one,  which  he  laid  on  the  table  be- 
fore Lady  Charlotte.  She  took  it  up,  glanced  through 
it  and  nodded. 

"That  is  it.  This  letter  will  appear  in  its  proper 
place  when  I  publish  Lord  Belfield's  memoirs.  What 
are  those  other  papers?  Any  of  mine  among  them? 
Ah,  surely  I  see " 

She  had  caught  sight  of  Lisa's  handwriting,  and 
caught  herself  up  suddenly,  with  a  pause  for  self-com- 
mand. "You  will  give  me  my  niece's  letters  also,  Mr. 
Ellison." 

He  dared  not  hesitate.  He  laid  the  packet  before 
her  and  watched  sullenly  while  she  turned  over  its 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  245 

various  items.  There  were  three  letters  from  Lisa 
which  she  selected  and  put  aside. 

"Have  you  any  others  from  her?  No?  You  are 
sure?  You  had  no  business  to  keep  them — but  then 
of  course  you  do  not  understand  matters  of  delicacy 
and  good  feeling.  And  now  before  I  go,  have  the 
goodness  to  tell  me  why  the  engagement  between  you 
and  my  niece  was  broken  off?  Did  she  discover  your 
unworthiness?  I  can  imagine  that;  for  with  all  her 
faults,  Lisa  knew  right  from  wrong.  Had  she  some 
reason  to  be  disgusted  with  you?" 

"I — I — it  was  I  who — who — at  least,  I  tried  to  make 
her  understand  that  I  was  too  poor  to  marry,"  said 
Arthur. 

"You  mean  you  broke  it  off?  You  refused  to  mar- 
ry her?" 

"I  was  too  poor." 

"You  were  a  miserable  cur,"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 
"The  girl  had  thrown  over  everything  for  your  sake, 
and  you  stopped  to  consider  whether  you  would  have 
to  curtail  your  own  luxuries,  I  suppose."  Her  eye 
ran  impatiently  over  the  expensive  engravings  and 
beautifully  bound  books  with  which  the  room  was 
decorated.  "You  spoilt  her  life  for  the  sake  of  your 
own  cowardice  and  selfishness:  I  am  quite  sure  of 
that." 

"I  thought  she  would  go  home  again,"  Arthur  mut- 
tered. 

"Ah,  yes,  any  way  of  getting  rid  of  her  was  good 
enough  for  you.  Upon  my  life,  I'm  sorry  I  have  un- 


246  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

dertaken  to  keep  that  paper  to  myself,  A  man  as  base 
as  you  are  deserves  punishment." 

"I'm  no  worse  than  other  men,"  said  her  victim. 

"Then  I  am  very  sorry  for  the  human  race.  But, 
good  heavens,  you  are  as  much  beneath  other  men  as 
a  cockroach  is  beneath  an  archangel,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte, dashing  into  hyperbole.  "Why  you  have  been 
allowed  to  cumber  the  earth  so  long  is  more  than  I 
can  imagine.  One  thing  I  intend,  which  may  curtail 
your  powers  of  doing  mischief,  Mr.  Arthur  Ellison,  I 
shall  send  a  letter  to  the  public  papers  and  to  all  the 
principal  London  publishers,  cautioning  them  against 
employing  you  in  any  capacity  of  trust." 

"Good  heavens,  Lady  Charlotte,  you  will  ruin  me!" 

"And  I  wish  to  ruin  you,"  she  said,  giving  him  a 
look  of  steel  from  under  her  curved  dark  brows.  "I 
mean,  if  I  can,  at  any  rate,  to  prevent  you  from  ever 
being  received  as  an  equal  by  respectable  people.  I 
mean  to  let  it  be  known  that  you  are  a  dishonorable 
scoundrel,  whom  no  one  can  safely  employ  in  matters 
that  require  trust  and  confidence." 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  law  of  libel '' 

Lady  Charlotte  laughed  mockingly.  "You  would 
like  to  apply  to  the  Court,  would  you  not?  You  would 
like  the  whole  story  to  come  out?  For  I  should  not 
spare  you  then!  Your  conduct  would  be  discussed  at 
every  breakfast-table  in  England." 

Arthur  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  "I  think  you 
are  a  devil  in  human  shape,"  he  said  bitterly.  "You 
leave  me  no  chance — no  hope,  you  undertook  to  keep 


THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE.  247 

the  matter  secret,  I  understood,  if  I  gave  up  publish- 
ing the  book " 

"I  undertook  nothing  absolutely.  I  promised  noth- 
ing— except  that  as  far  as  lies  in  my  power,  Mr.  Arthur 
Ellison,  I  shall  always  try  to  make  you  suffer  as  much 
as  I  can." 

There  was  a  strange  vindictiveness  in  her  manner: 
a  look  of  bitter  enmity  in  her  eyes.  Young  Ellison 
did  not  understand  it:  indeed,  Lady  Charlotte  was 
half-surprised  at  the  strength  of  the  feeling  which  had 
been  roused  in  herself.  It  seemed  as  though  that 
old  tenderness  for  Lisa,  lately  risen  as  it  were  from  the 
dead,  was  spending  all  its  vigor  in  an  effort  to  avenge 
Lisa's  wrongs.  Lady  Charlotte  felt  no  pity  for  the 
miserable  object  to  which  Arthur's  cowardice  and  mis- 
ery had  reduced  him:  she  was  only  anxious  at  that 
moment  to  make  him  writhe  under  the  lash  of  her 
scorn  and  the  fear  of  its  consequences. 

"And  now  I  will  leave  you,"  she  said,  taking  up  the 
bag  into  which  her  papers  had  been  bestowed.  "I 
hope  I  may  never  see  your  face  again,  Mr.  Ellison, 
but  I  daresay  you  will  often  hear  of  me." 

"But,  Lady  Charlotte — one  moment — have  some 
pity — for  God's  sake.  Don't  ruin  me— don't  expose 
me!"  cried  the  young  man,  falling  on  his  knees  and 
catching  at  her  dress  as  she  turned  to  leave  the  room. 
He  sobbed  as  he  pulled  at  the  folds  of  her  satin  gown. 
"I  will  do  anything  I  can  to  make  amends:  I — I'll — 
I'll  marry  Lisa,  if  you  like — !'' 

"You  miserable  hound!  get  up  and  don't  snivel!" 
said  Lady  Charlotte,  who  was  peculiarly  unlikely  to 


248  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

be  moved  (except  to  wrath)  by  the  sight  of  a  man's 
tears.  "Marry  Lisa  indeed!  I'll  make  your  name  a 
by-word  in  every  house  in  England  if  I  hear  you 
speak  of  her  again!'' 

She  disengaged  her  dress  from  his  grasp,  and  left 
the  room,  leaving  him  at  full  length  upon  the  floor,  sob- 
bing like  a  child.  She  opened  the  front  door,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  on  the  steps,  looking  up  and 
down  the  street  until  she  could  see  a  cab.  "I  hope  1 
frightened  him  sufficiently,"  she  said  to  herself,  with 
a  grim  kind  of  humor,  as  she  drove  away.  "He'll 
have  a  bad  time  of  it,  I  fancy,  for  the  next  few  days." 

The  next  few  hours  were  bad  enough,  if  she  had 
only  known.  The  man  dragged  himself  from  the  floor 
to  his  bed  and  lay  there  in  a  torpor  of  exhaustion, 
varied  by  cries  of  rage  and  anguish  in  which  he  made 
his  teeth  meet  in  his  own  flesh  for  very  madness  of 
over-wrought  feeling.  His  fear  of  Lady  Charlotte  had 
increased  to  positive  agony  at  last.  He  beheld  him- 
self everywhere  pursued  by  her  enmity,  a  tall  dark 
figure  meeting  him  at  every  turn,  the  tones  of  her 
accusing  voice  for  ever  in  his  ears.  She  would  ruin 
him:  she  would  hunt  him  down — even  to  the  death. 
She  would  never  forgive. 

He  believed  every  word  that  she  had  spoken.  He 
saw  no  hyperbole,  no  exaggeration  in  any  of  her 
threats.  He  pictured  her  sitting  at  her  desk  in  the 
library  at  Westhills,  writing  a  letter  to  the  Athenaeum 
perhaps,  and  another  to  the  Times.  He  had  seen 
similar  letters,  warning  the  public  against  "unscru- 
pulous adventurers"  who  had  tried  to  swindle  the  un- 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  249 

wary.  Was  he  to  be  classed  with  them?  And  he 
could  do  nothing:  he  could  neither  deny,  nor  re- 
monstrate, nor  prosecute  for  libel:  he  could  but  sit 
down  quietly  under  any  imputation  she  chose  to  cast 
upon  him  and  eat  out  his  heart  in  what  would  look 
like  conscious  guilt. 

Of  course,  he  knew  that  he  was  guilty.  He  knew 
that  he  had  done  what  no  honorable  man  would  do. 
But  surely  he  was  excusable,  if  anybody  ever  was. 
He  had  always  been  clever,  and  he  had  had  so  few 
chances  of  getting  on,  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  that 
he  could  reject  any  that  came  in  his  way.  If  he  had 
been  a  rich  man,  it  would  have  been  different:  it 
would  have  been  easy  to  be  virtuous,  then !  But  now — 
if  Lady  Charlotte  carried  out  half  her  threats — he  was 
utterly  ruined — ruined  more  completely  than  if  he  had 
failed  in  business,  or  lost  his  money  in  a  bubble  specu- 
lation. For,  mixed  with  his  desire  of  wealth  for  the 
luxuries  that  it  would  bring,  or  of  success  for  the 
sake  of  a  flattered  vanity,  there  was  some  sort  of 
aspiration  after  a  better  and  more  enduring  Kind  of 
fame — that  of  the  writer  of  beautiful  verses,  of  lines 
that  the  world  would  not  willingly  let  die. 

From  this  field  of  achievement,  he  seemed  to  him- 
self cut  out.  Publishers  would  no  doubt  print  his 
books  if  they  were  really  good:  but  he  felt  a  sick 
shame  at  the  idea  of  sitting  down  to  elaborate  sweet 
fancies,  when  so  many  of  his  readers  would  know  him 
to  be  dishonored,  base  and  vile.  Better  go  to  the 
backwoods  and  earn  his  living  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow ! 


250  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

But  here  again  he  shrank  from  the  thought  of  toil 
and  peril,  hunger  and  cold.  He  wanted  his  life  to  be 
softly  lapped  about  in  folds,  as  it  were,  of  velvet:  he 
cared  for  no  harder  manual  labor  than  that  involved 
by  handling  a  pen.  He  thought  with  passionate  re- 
gret of  the  marriage  he  might  have  made,  if  his  name 
had  been  unsoiled;  but  he  knew  the  West-Indian 
heiress  too  well  to  suppose  that  she  would  let  her 
thousands  pass  into  his  hands,  if  he  were  branded 
with  the  name  of  an  adventurer.  The  prospect  of  a 
wealthy  marriage  had  vanished,  probably  for  ever, 
from  his  view. 

His  fear  of  Lady  Charlotte  was  like  a  possession. 
He  set  no  limits  to  her  power.  She  was  rich  and  in- 
fluential and  unmerciful:  she  would  crush  him,  as 
one  crushes  a  noxious  insect.  If  only  he  could  get 
away  from  her,  surely  he  might  begin  again — he  might 
win  his  way  to  fame  and  fortune  yet! 

The  excitement  of  the  day  was  telling  upon  him  and 
making  him  feverish.  His  thoughts  began  to  be  vague 
and  confused:  his  head  was  aching  violently.  He  had 
turned  from  food  all  day  with  loathing,  and  now  it 
was  evening  and  growing  dark.  His  door  was  locked: 
he  had  a  nervous  fear  lest  Lady  Charlotte  should  come 
back,  and  he  would  not  even  admit  his  landlady,  who 
came  once  to  his  room  with  a  cup  of  tea,  and  once 
with  a  parcel,  which  she  said  had  just  been  brought 
for  him  from  a  Mr.  Furnival's.  This  announcement 
roused  him  a  little,  and  when  she  had  gone  down- 
stairs, he  crept  out  upon  the  landing  and  brought 
the  parcel  into  his  room.  Yes,  it  was  the  manuscript, 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  251 

still  in  Mr.  Dorian's  wrapper,  addressed  to  Lady  Char- 
lotte. How  he  cursed  Dorian  and  Dorian's  clerk  in 
his  own  mind! 

He  unfastened  the  wrapper  with  hot,  trembling  fin- 
gers; then,  without  trusting  himself  to  glance  even  at 
the  words  he  had  written,  he  tore  the  neatly-written 
pages  across  and  across,  and  then  thrust  the  fragments 
into  the  grate,  where  a  few  red  embers  were  still  aglow. 
The  edges  of  the  paper  grew  black,  then  brown,  then 
broke  into  a  light  flame,  which  spread  from  sheet 
to  sheet  until  all  was  destroyed.  Ellison  held  the 
burning  papers  down  with  a  poker,  so  that  the  flames 
should  not  mount  too  high  and  turned  them  about 
until  every  page  was  blackened  and  illegible.  Then 
he  went  to  his  private  drawer  and  took  out  the  note- 
books from  which  the  book  had  been  compiled.  These 
also  he  piled  upon  the  heap — first  tearing  them  across, 
so  that  they  should  burn  more  easily.  Soon  all  that 
remained  of  his  labors  was  a  little  pile  of  ashes,  at 
which  he  stood  staring  stupidly  for  a  little  while,  with 
a  childish  desire  that  Lady  Charlotte  and  Lisa  coufd 
know  what  he  had  done.  Of  Esther  he  had  long 
left  off  thinking;  but  at  that  moment  he  wished  that 
she  were  near  him,  and  that  he  might  do  as  he  had 
done  before  so  many  times  in  his  bright  and  eager 
boyhood — make  her  his  confidante,  his  confessor,  as 
regarded  all  that  went  wrong  in  his  impulse-ridden 
life. 

He  sat  down  and  even  wrote  a  word  or  two.  "Dear 
Esther'' — he  began,  and  paused.  What  had  he  to  say? 
How  could  he,  even  to  her,  confess  the  treachery  of 


252  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

which  he  had  been  guilty  to  her  friends?  He  left  the 
sheet  on  his  desk,  without  writing  another  word,  and 
went  back  to  his  room.  His  head  was  aching  horribly 
and  his  skin  was  feverish.  The  old  resource  against 
sleeplessness  was  standing  near.  He  seized  the  fluted 
blue  bottle  and  poured  out  his  accustomed  dose.  Did 
his  hand  shake,  and  had  he  poured  out  more  than 
enough  to  ensure  him  a  good  night's  rest? 

"It  does  not  matter  to  anybody  if  I  never  wake 
again,"  was  his  last  thought,  before  he  sank  into  the 
utter  tranquillity  of  unconsciousness. 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  253 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A   MESSAGE   OF   MERCY. 

Lady  Charlotte  went  home  that  afternoon,  after 
short  interviews  with  Mr.  Furnival  and  Mr.  Dorian, 
and  rather  amazed  her  husband  by  the  serenity  and 
peaceableness  of  her  demeanor.  True  she  was  grave, 
and  sometimes  he  thought  that  she  looked  troubled; 
but  she  was  very  amiable  to  him,  and  accompanied 
him  in  a  tour  round  the  conservatories  before  din- 
ner in  the  evening.  He  wondered  where  she  had 
been  and  what  she  had  been  doing;  but  he  could  not 
raise  his  courage  sufficiently  to  ask,  even  when  she 
played  piquet  with  him  in  the  evening — a  great  con- 
cession on  her  part. 

Next  morning,  however,  things  did  not  go  so 
smoothly.  Lady  Charlotte  found  something  wrong 
in  the  stables,  and,  as  the  head  groom  expressed  it, 
"stormed  all  over  the  place."  It  was  a  relief  to  her 
to  express  in  this  way  a  growing  sense  of  dissatis- 
faction with  herself  and  with  everybody  else.  And 
she  was  still  angry  when  she  thought  of  Arthur  Elli- 
son. The  remembrance  of  things  that  he  had  said 
repeatedly  brought  a  gloom  to  her  face  that  morning. 
But  she  seemed  resolved  against  stopping  to  think 
o£  anything  but  the  occupation  of  the  moment.  After 
upsetting  the  grooms  and  stable-men  by  a  scolding 
which  it  must  be  owned  that  they  deserved,  she  or- 


854  THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

dered  her  horse  and  rode  over  to  Hurst,  where  she 
carefully  inquired  when  Mr.  Thorold  was  coming 
back,  and  what  preparations  were  being  made  for  his 
reception.  Then  she  lunched  at  a  farmhouse,  and  con- 
ferred with  the  farmer  about  his  land,  and  then,  riding 
home  again,  she  reached  Westhills  a  little  after  four, 
and  was  told  that  some  one  had  come  from  London 
to  see  her  on  business. 

"What  sort  of  business?"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
thinking  of  Dorian  and  his  clerks. 

"She  did  not  say,  my  lady,"  answered  the  man,  who 
was  new  to  his  place.  Andrews  had  managed  to 
hurt  his  foot  and  was  confined  to  his  room. 

"She!— Where  is  she?" 

"In  the  little  book-room,  my  lady.  She  said  she  had 
come  from  London,  and  must  wait  to  see  you,  and  I 
think  she  is  one  of  those  ladies  that  come  to  you  from 
the  poor  when  you're  in  town,  my  lady." 

"Oh,  one  of  the  Little  Sisters,"  muttered  Lady 
Charlotte,  half-disposed  to  rebuke  the  man  for  his 
loquacity;  but  she  turned  aside  to  the  book-room, 
which  was  a  smaller  and  plainer  library,  near  the  main 
entrance  to  the  hall,  feeling  meanwhile  in  a  small 
breast-pocket  for  the  sovereign-purse  which  she  car- 
ried about  with  her.  She  always  gave  gold  to  the 
Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor  when  they  came  to  her 
house  in  London. 

But  on  pushing  open  the  door,  which  was  slightly 
ajar,  she  saw  that  she  had  been  misinformed.  It  was 
not  one  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul's  black-veiled  Sisters 
that  waited  for  her,  although  she  did  not  altogether 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  255 

wonder  at  the  servant's  mistake.  For  there  was  a 
seeming  similarity  in  the  garb :  the  visitor's  dress  was 
black,  and  she  wore  a  long  black  veil  affixed  to  a  plain 
black  straw  bonnet,  with  white  strings,  framing  the 
face.  It  was  when  she  turned  her  face,  that  Lady 
Charlotte  forgot  all  about  the  dress;  for  it  was  Lisa's 
face! 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  during  which  the 
aunt  and  niece  looked  straight  into  each  other's  eyes 
without  a  word.  It  was  a  crucial  moment.  Lady 
Charlotte  was  very  much  inclined  to  turn  and  walk 
out  of  the  room  again,  but  something  in  the  sight 
of  Lisa's  white  cheek  and  quivering  mouth,  and  in  the 
sweetness  of  her  glistening  eyes,  attracted  her.  Her 
own  features  contracted  with  a  nervous  spasm.  Then 
they  turned  to  stone.  She  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"I  hardly  expected  this — this  honor,"  she  said,  shut- 
ting the  door  carefully  behind  her,  and  looking  at  Lisa 
with  hostile  eyes.  She  might  grieve  over  Lisa's  de- 
fection in  private,  she  might  even  fight  her  battles  for 
her  in  public;  but  she  could  not  yet  bring  herself  to 
soften  her  voice  to  her,  or  give  her  a  tender  word. 
But  Lisa  did  not  expect  it:  she  had  come  for  that. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Charlotte/'  she  said,  holding  out  her 
two  white  slender  hands,  "let  me  speak  to  you  for  a 
moment.  I  have  come  here  only  for  one  thing:  to 
tell  you  how  deeply  I  repent  my  ungrateful  and  un- 
dutiful  conduct  to  you,  and  to  beg  you  to  forgive  me. 
I  know — I  see  now  how  badly  I  behaved,"  said  Lisa. 
with  the  tears  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  sweet  eyes 
shining  like  rain-washed  flowers  in  the  sunshine,  "and 


256  THE   LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

I  could  not  rest  in  peace  until  I  had  asked  your  for- 
giveness." 

There  was  a  curious  change  in  Lady  Charlotte's 
face.  It  did  not  exactly  soften.  But  the  lines  of  it 
seemed  to  relax.  She  stood  perfectly  motionless,  look- 
ing into  Lisa's  face.  Suddenly  she  moved  her  hand 
and  touched  the  girl's  dress. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  she  asked,  almost  fiercely. 
"You  are  not  a — Sister — a  nun?" 

"Oh  no, — I  could  not  become  one  so  soon,"  said 
Lisa  tranquilly.  "I  may  be  a  Sister  of  Charity  one 
day,  but  not  now.  I  will  tell  you  all  about  that  by  and 
by,  if  you  will  let  me.  Just  now,  I  only  want  one 
thing — your  forgiveness." 

She  came  nearer  and  laid  her  hands  on  her  aunt's 
arms.  She  was  surprised  to  feel  that  Lady  Charlotte 
was  trembling  violently.  Suddenly  the  elder  woman's 
sternness  and  coldness,  which  had  been  half-assumed, 
wholly-  broke  down.  She  took  Lisa  into  her  arms  and 
held  her  there,  while  the  slow  difficult  sobs  surged  up 
in  her  throat  and  made  her  incapable  of  utterance. 
But  she  kissed  the  soft  lips  that  met  hers,  and  Lisa's 
readier  tears  mingled  with  rare  drops  that  quenched 
the  fire  in  Lady  Charlotte's  proud  eyes.  It  was  Lisa 
who  presently  drew  her  aunt  to  a  chair,  where  she  sat 
for  a  time  in  silence,  with  Lisa  on  her  knees  before 
her  and  the  two  faces  very  close  together.  Lady 
Charlotte  found  it  very  difficult  to  recover  her  self- 
control  when  once  she  had  lost  it.  And  it  was  some 
time  before  Lisa  could  find  words  in  which  to  put  her 
story. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  257 

At  last  she  began  to  murmur  short  broken  senten- 
ces in  Lady  Charlotte's  ear,  to  which  Lady  Charlotte 
listened  with  an  odd  feeling  that  this  was  not  Lisa  who 
was  speaking,  but  some  other  person  whom  she  had 
never  known.  Perhaps  it  was  Lisa  that  she  had  never 
known. 

"I  thought  you  were  unjust  to  me  at  first  .'  . 
I  thought  I  had  the  right  to  live  my  own  life — in  my 
own  way.  I  acknowledged  no  control — not  even 
yours,  although  I  owed  you  so  much  . 
When  he  came,  he  spoke  to  me  in  what  seemed  a  new 
way — he  spoke  of  poetry  and  love  and  art;  and  I 
listened,  thinking  it  beautiful  when  he  said  that  love 
superseded  all  law,  that  love  was,  in  one's  own  par- 
ticular sense,  a  fulfilling  of  the  law.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  nothing  else  was  so  beautiful  as  that  idea;  and 
I  could  not  bear  that  worldly  prudence  should  stand 
between  us  and  our  love." 

"My  poor  child!  You  know  by  this  time  how  lit- 
tle worthy  he  was  of  such  a  love/'  Lady  Charlotte 
found  words  to  say. 

"Oh  yes,  I  know,"  Lisa  answered  sadly.  "I  found 
it  out  when — when  I  went  to  him,  expecting  him  to 
be  so  glad  to  see  me,  so  ready  to  protect  me  against 
all  the  world.  You  know  how  he  failed  me — how  I 
suffered  for  my  mistake." 

Lady  Charlotte  pressed  her  closer,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"But  I  wished  to  lead  my  own  life  still.  I  did  not 
see  that  all  my  suffering  came  from  that  initial  mis- 
take of  thinking  that  my  love,  my  fancies  must  super- 

17 


258  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

sede  even  the  laws  of  right  and  wrong.  I  thought 
nothing  of  any  allegiance  to  any  higher  power.  I 
thought  my  own  self  my  first  concern.  That  was  why 
I  would  not  own  that  I  was  wrong — because  I  believed 
that  I  had  the  ordering  of  my  own  life  in  my  own 
hands  and  might  do  as  I  chose." 

Lady  Charlotte  held  her  breath.  It  darted  through 
her  mind  that  Lisa  was  only  expressing  in  words  what 
had  been  the  law  of  her  own  life.  For  what  had  she, 
Charlotte  Byng,  ever  cared,  except  the  maintenance 
of  a  foremost  place  in  the  world  and  the  glorification 
of  her  own  family? 

"I  thought  I  would  gain  experience  for  myself/' 
Lisa  went  on,  "so  I  began  to  work  among  the  poor. 
People  seemed  to  think  that  visiting  the  poor  makes 
you  better.  It  only  taught  me  my  own  intolerable 
need:  it  taught  me  that  if  my  ideas  of  life  had  been 
true,  every 'one  of  these  poor  people  had  better  be 
dead.  And  then  I  met  women  who  went  in  and  out 
among  them,  tending  them,  comforting  them,  telling 
them  that  their  troubles  did  not  come  by  chance  but 
by  the  hand  of  God;  that  the  beauty  of  life  lay  in 
submission  to  God's  will,  and  that  our  lives  were  not 
our  own  to  do  as  we  like  with;  but  meant  to  be 
offered  up  to  God.  That  is  what  I  learned;  and  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  the  world  were  made  new." 

"A  saint  may  feel  like  that,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
abruptly:  "not  an  ordinary  woman  of  flesh  and  blood 
like  me." 

"I  think  I  am  an  ordinary  woman  of  flesh  and 
blood,"  said  Lisa,  with  a  soft  happy  laugh, — how  long 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  259 

it  was  since  Lady  Charlotte  had  heard  her  laugh  like 
that! — "and  I  believe  my  will  is  almost  as  strong  as 
yours,  Aunt  Charlotte — " 

"Quite  as  strong,  my  dear!" 

"And  yet  I  have  found  the  highest  wisdom  and 
the  greatest  happiness  in — submission." 

"You  mean  to  have  no  will  of  your  own  then,  for 
the  future?" 

"Oh  yes,  indeed,  I  do!  It  is  not  broken,  but  it  is 
learning  how  to  bend — that  is  all." 

"Lisa,  Lisa,  this  is  all  very  well,  but  do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to  give  up  an  independ- 
ent life  of  your  own — enter  a  Sisterhood,  or  some  such 
institution,  and  spend  the  rest  of  your  days  among 
gossiping  women  and  wretched  ungrateful  poor?" 

"I  hope  we  shall  not  gossip,"  said  Lisa  sweetly, 
"and  I  don't  think  my  poor  people  will  be  ungrate- 
ful. But  I  am  a  long  way  off  from  the  consumma- 
tion you  speak  of  with  such  dislike,  dear  Aunt  Char- 
lotte. I  am  only  a  probationer  at  St.  Stephen's — ," 
mentioning  the  headquarters  of  a  celebrated  English 
Sisterhood,  devoted  to  mission-work  among  the  very 
poor — ,  "and  it  will  take  me  seven  years  to  go  through 
the  varying  degrees  of  probation.  So  there  will  be 
plenty  of  time  for  me  to  change  my  mind." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 
Then  she  held  her  niece's  face  from  her  for  a  moment 
and  looked  at  it  intently.  "You  are  pale  and  thin," 
she  said,  "but  I  think  you  look  happier  than  when 
I  saw  you  last.  Oh,  Lisa,  how  could  you  leave  us?" 

"Will  you  not  forgive  me,  Aunt  Charlotte?" 


260  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"Of  course,  I  do,  child;  but — won't  you  come  back 
to  us  again?" 

Lisa  shook  her  head  silently. 

"Ah,  that  is  just  where  it  is.  You  are  as  obstinate 
as  ever,  Lisa." 

"I  hope — I  hope  not.  But  you  have  a  right  to 
command,"  said  Lisa,  hiding  her  face.  "I  said  to  my- 
self that  I  would  do  anything  to  make  amends.  I 
had  found  my  vocation,  I  thought ;  but  if  you  tell  me 
to  give  it  up,  I  will." 

"No/'  said  Lady  Charlotte,  with  her  old  decisive 
energy.  "That  wouldn't  be  fair.  I  have  lost  you 
through  my  own  hardness,  my  own  anger  with  you 
when  you  left  Brook  Street.  I  have  no  right  to  ask 
you  an)^thing;  besides,  I  know  too  well  that  you  would 
not  be  as  happy  with  me  as  you  are  now.  If  ever  you 
want  to  come  home,  Lisa,  remember  that  it  is  always 
open  to  you;  but  if  not — for  God's  sake,  go  on  your 
own  way,  do  your  own  work,  and  be  happy." 

Lisa  thanked  her  with  a  kiss,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
they  held  each  other's  hands  in  silence. 

"And  Esther?  How  is  Esther?"  Lady  Charlotte 
asked  at  length.  Lisa  knew  that  the  question  meant 
concession — to  a  certain  extent. 

"She  is  well.  She  is  working  very  hard,  and  some- 
times looking  tired  and  sad." 

"She  would  be  sorry  to  lose  your  companionship." 

"Yes,  poor  Esther!  She  is  very  much  alone  in  the 
world.  I  wish  you  would  see  something  of  her." 

"I?"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  recoiling.  "When  I  think 
of  all  the  harm  she  brought  upon  us — " 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  261 

"Not  consciously — not  knowingly.  No  one  could 
be  more  sorry  than  she  has  been.  She  wished  me  to 
say  so  to  you:  she  dared  not  approach  you  herself.'' 

"She  would  dare  still  less  if  she  knew  what  that 
man  has  been  doing!"  cried  Lady  Charlotte,  carried 
further  than  she  meant  to  go  by  the  force  of  her  pas- 
sion. Lisa  turned  a  little  pale,  but  looked  up  quickly 
and  bravely. 

"What  has  he  been  doing?"  she  said.     "Tell  me." 

And  Lady  Charlotte  told  her,  in  hurried  but  scath- 
ing words,  laying  full  stress  on  the  baseness  of  his 
conduct,  the  cruelty  of  his  insinuations,  the  treachery 
to  herself  of  which  he  had  been  guilty.  "I  can  never 
be  glad  enough  that  the  book  was  sent  to  me  to  read," 
she  said.  "Of  course  it  was  one  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary of  coincidences;  but  it  happened  in  the  sim- 
plest way.  Dorian  telephoned  to  his  clerk  in  the 
next  room,  'Send  MS.  No.  23,941  to  Lady  Charlotte 
Byng.'  The  clerk  took  down  the  order  and  handed  it 
to  his  subordinate,  who  read  the  last  figure  as  a  nought 
instead  of  a  one,  and  therefore  sent  me  the  manuscript 
immediately  preceding  the  one  that  I  ought  to  have 
received.'' 

"What  did  you  do,  Aunt  Charlotte?" 

"I  made  Mr.  Ellison  abandon  the  idea.  He  has 
given  me  a  written  confession  of  his  villainy,  and  he 
knows  that  if  he  publishes  that  book,  I  shall  put  his 
confession  into  print  and  give  it  to  the  world  as  well. 
That  will  effectually  deter  him,  I  think.'' 

"I  wonder  you  were  able — ,"  Lisa  began,  hesitating- 


262  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

ly;  and  she  did  not  like  the  ring  of  her  aunt's  laughter, 
as  Lady  Charlotte  replied: 

"Able !  I  stood  over  him  with  a  pistol,  and  threatened 
to  shoot  him  if  he  refused  to  write  what  I  dictated. 
And  I  would  have  done  it,  too !" 

The  look  of  grim  determination  on  the  dark  hand- 
some face  was  one  which  Lisa  had  seen  before.  She 
knew  its  force,  and  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  what 
might  have  been. 

"He  yielded  like  a  coward,  as  he  is,"  said  her  aunt 
contemptuously.  "He  cried  like  a  child — he  groveled 
on  the  ground — he  begged  me  not  to  expose  him  be- 
fore the  world.  Here,  read  his  confession:  you  see 
I  have  not  let  him  spare  himself." 

Lisa  drew  a  long  breath:  her  eyes  filled  with  tears 
as  she  looked  at  the  scrawled  shameful  words. 

"He  has  had  his  punishment — in  this,"  she  said, 
slowly. 

"I  left  him  in  doubt  as  to  whether  I  would  not  pub- 
lish it  still.  He  had  behaved  so  scandalously  that  I 
thought  it  good  for  him  to  suffer  a  little  more.  I 
gave  him  to  understand  that  I  should  at  any  rate 
write  to  the  papers  and  warn  other  people  against 
him." 

"But  you  do  not  mean  to  do  so,  Aunt  Charlotte?'' 

"Well — no,  it  would  be  a  little  too  bad,  perhaps.  But 
I  let  him  think  I  would  do  it;  and  I  left  him  on  the 
floor — in  an  agony  of  fear." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Charlotte,  it  was  cruel!  I  cannot  bear  it! 
You  must  relieve  him  from  that  fear:  it  is  enough  to 
weigh  a  man  down  to  hell!" 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  263 

"You  don't  care  for  him  now,  do  you?"  demanded 
Lady  Charlotte,  sharply  and  suspiciously. 

"No,  not  at  all  in  that  way.  But  I  am  sorry  for  him. 
I  know  there  was — once — some  good  in  his  nature: 
I  am  sure  of  that.  The  worst  way  to  treat  him  would 
be  to  turn  every  one's  hand  against  him — to  make 
him  feel  himself  an  outcast,  a  criminal.  Oh,  Aunt 
Charlotte,  be  merciful!  You  have  made  him  humble 
himself  to  the  dust  before  you.  Now  let  him  go 
free." 

"Do  you  plead  for  him,  Lisa,  after  the  way  he  in- 
sulted and  injured  you?" 

"All  the  more  because  of  that.  I  could  not  bear  to 
think  that  my  wrongs,  such  as  they  were,  had  sunk 
him  deeper.  It  would  be  a  bitter  grief  to  me.  Have 
pity  on  him,  Aunt  Charlotte — as  we  trust  that  God 
will  have  pity  upon  us!" 

"Child,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?''  said  Lady 
Charlotte,  not  unmoved  by  this  appeal  made  to  her 
while  she  still  felt  the  warmth  of  Lisa's  affection  about 
her  heart.  "I  punished  him,  I  think;  and  he  deserved 
it;  but  now — a  little  fear  will  do  him  no  harm,  and 
I  can't  consent  to  give  up  this  paper,  even  to  you." 

"Why  not?''  said  Lisa  calmly.  "The  good  of  it  has 
been  accomplished,  if  ever  there  was  good.  As  you 
say,  he  has  been  punished,  and  I  am  sure  that  he  has 
suffered.  Let  him  burn  the  manuscript  and  any  other 
papers  of  the  kind  in  your  presence,  and  then  do  you 
in  turn  destroy  this  paper,  and  give  him  another 
chance." 

"I  will  never  go  near  him  again." 


264  THE    LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"Let  me  do  it/'  said  Lisa  quietly.  "I  will  write  to 
him,  or  see  him,  and  let  him  know  that  we  forgive  his 
wrong-doing.  Dearest  Aunt  Charlotte,  how  can  we 
ask  for  forgiveness,  if  we  do  not  forgive  the  trespasses 
of  those  who  sin  against  us?" 

"My  dear  child,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  with  great  gen- 
tleness, "I  promise  you  I  will  never  use  this  paper,  un- 
less he  obliges  me  to  do  it  by  publishing  libels  on  our 
family.  For  all  our  sakes,  I  must  reserve  that  power 
in  my  hands.  But  I'll  do  nothing  else  against  him — he 
is  safe  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  If  it  would  make 
you  any  happier,  you  can  let  him  know  I  am  not" 
— with  a  tender  smile — "afraid  of  your  seeing  him 
now." 

It  was  as  much  as  Lisa  could  expect,  and  she  sub- 
mitted to  a  change  of  subject,  and  to  being  taken  into 
the  drawing-room  where  Mr.  Byng  nearly  dropped 
his  favorite  orchid  at  the  very  sight  of  her. 

They  made  much  of  her:  they  petted  and  caressed 
her,  but  they  could  not  keep  her  long.  She  had 
promised  to  be  back  in  London  by  seven  o'clock, 
and  she  had  to  leave  them  very  soon  in  order  to 
keep  her  word.  But  she  said  that  she  should  come 
to  them  again  very  soon,  and  stay  for  a  long,  long 
holiday. 

In  the  Sisterhood  to  which  she  was  attached,  she 
was  allowed  a  good  deal  of  freedom;  and  no  one  even 
asked  whither  she  was  bound  when  she  set  out  soon 
after  breakfast  next  morning  for  a  certain  house  in 
Kensington.  She  had  set  her  heart  upon  going  to 
Arthur  Ellison  herself,  and  carrying  him  the  mes- 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  265 

sage  of  mercy  that  her  Aunt  had  given  to  her.  She 
pleased  herself  with  the  thought  of  his  relief;  and  she 
felt  a  great  desire  to  tell  him  of  her  happiness  in  her 
new  life,  and  her  utter  forgetfulness  of  the  past. 

Judging  by  what  she  knew  of  his  character,  she 
felt  sure  that  he  must  have  suffered  an  agony  of 
shame  and  terror,  when  Lady  Charlotte  threatened  to 
make  his  conduct  known;  and  her  very  knowledge 
of  his  weakness  made  her  more  inclined  to  pity — such 
pity  as  an  angel  might  feel  for  the  woes  and  sins  of 
men. 

She  reached,  the  house,  and  was  struck  by  a  little 
air  of  confusion  about  it.  Some  ragged  children  hov- 
ered near.  A  policeman  stood  at  the  area-gate:  two 
or  three  rough-looking  men  were  lingering  in  the 
hall,  and  the  front-door  stood  wide  open.  Lisa  ap- 
proached timidly,  and,  seeing  a  woman  who  looked 
like  a  landlady,  asked  if  she  could  speak  to  Mr.  Elli- 
son. 

"Lord  love  you,  Sister!  Don't  you  know?"  said 
Mrs.  Jevons  effusively.  "Why  it's  been  in  all  the 
papers,  yesterday  and  to-day;  but  of  course,  you  Sis- 
ters don't  read  newspapers,  do  you?  Poor  Mr.  Elli- 
son !  As  nice  a  gentleman  as  ever  lived — but  too  much 
given  to  sleeping-drafts — took  an  overdose  of  chloral 
night  before  last,  Sister,  and  the  jury's  bringing  of  it  as 
'Death  by  misadventure.'" 

Lady  Charlotte's  message  of  mercy  had  come  too 
late. 


266  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

NEW    DEPARTURES. 

It  has  been  truly  said  that  greatest  virtues  some- 
times have  their  root  in  faults;  and  that  noble  deeds 
and  saintly  lives  may  spring  out  of  the  memory  of  a 
secret  unsuspected  sin. 

Lady  Charlotte  Byng  had  not  perhaps  the  makings 
of  a  saint  in  her;  but  she  was  a  woman  of  nobler  im- 
pulses than  her  undisciplined  temper  would  have  led 
one  to  suspect;  and  the  news  of  Arthur  Ellison's 
death  gave  her  a  very  great  shock.  "God  forgive 
me!"  she  had  said  when  first  she  heard  of  it,  "did  I 
drive  him  to  that?"  And  for  many  days  she  wore  the 
air  of  one  who  grieved  sorely,  and  it  was  only  through 
Lisa's  words  of  hope  and  comfort  that  she  won  her 
way  back  to  peace.  She  was  a  gentler,  more  pliable 
woman  for  the  rest  of  her  life,  through  the  memory 
of  the  man,  erring  though  he  was,  whom  she  thought 
that  she  had  driven  to  his  death. 

Lisa,  however,  never  credited  the  rumor  that  he  had 
committed  suicide.  It  was  found  that  his 'heart  was 
weak,  and  that  a  comparatively  small  overdose  of 
chloral  might  have  produced  fatal  effects.  He  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  taking  it  for  many  months  and  it 
was  easy  to  imagine  that  he  had  unintentionally  swal- 
lowed more  than  he  intended  to  take.  There  was  the 
letter  just  begun  upon  his  desk — "Dear  Esther"  at 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  267 

its  head — to  show  that  he  had  meant  to  write  a  letter 
to  his  cousin.  On  the  other  hand  Mrs.  Jevons  de- 
clared that  he  had  seemed  greatly  distressed  ever 
since  the  visit  of  Lady  Charlotte  Byng,  and  there  was 
some  talk  of  calling  her  as  a  witness,  but  to  Lady 
Charlotte's  great  relief  it  was  not  deemed  necessary 
that  she  should  appear. 

Mr.  Dorian  had  his  own  ideas  concerning  Arthur 
Ellison's  death  however,  and  as  he  severed  his  con- 
nection with  the  publishing  trade  shortly  afterwards 
he  had  no  hesitation  in  stating  his  belief  that  Lady 
Charlotte  had  goaded  him  to  suicide. 

The  heap  of  ashes  in  the  grate  which  showed  that 
he  had  been  burning  papers  excited  a  good  deal  of 
interest;  and  one  of  the  jurymen  advanced  a  theory 
that  the  young  man  had  written  a  novel  which  the  pub- 
lishers had  rejected,  and  that  he  had  therefore  taken 
his  own  life  in  a  moment  of  depression.  This  theory 
was  very  generally  accepted.  Even  Esther  never  knew 
the  truth.  Arthur's  confession  was  consigned  to  the 
flames  by  Lady  Charlotte  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  his 
death;  and  she  bound  Mr.  Byng  and  Lisa  by  solemn 
promises  never  to  reveal  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
abused  his  trust. 

Lady  Charlotte  was  not  a  woman  to  do  anything  by 
halves. 

One  day  when  Esther  had  been  working  hard  and 
was  feeling  unusually  dispirited  she  came  home  to 
find  Lisa's  aunt  in  full  possession  of  her  little  sitting 
room.  The  shabby  room  seemed  transfigured  by  her 
presence.  Lady  Charlotte  might  mourn  for  her  mis- 


268  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

doings  in  her  heart,  but  her  attire  was  as  gorgeous  as 
ever.  An  Indian  cashmere  glowed  on  the  back  of 
Esther's  rocking  chair:  a  satin  cloak  lined  with  silver 
fox  had  been  thrown  upon  the  table ;  and  Lady  Char- 
lotte's velvet  skirts  trailed  in  all  their  splendor  over 
the  chintz  covered  sofa,  while  the  feathers  in  her  bon- 
net nodded  with  more  majestic  effect  than  if  she  had 
worn  a  crown.  Esther  in  her  black  frock  and  crape 
trimmed  hat,  with  the  tired  foot  and  the  wearily  griev- 
ing face,  crept  slowly  upstairs  to  her  room  and  stood 
amazed  at  the  sight  she  saw.  Looking  at  her  Lady 
Charlotte  was  rather  thankful  to  feel  that  at  any  rate 
she  did  not  know  the  story  of  her  cousin  Arthur's  last 
day  on  earth.  But  probably  she  remembered  all  his 
long  conflict  with  the  Byng  family,  and  was  distressed 
by  the  sight  of  Lady  Charlotte.  Even  Lady  Charlotte 
herself  acknowledged  that  this  would  be  very  rational. 

She  got  up  and  came  over  to  tke  door  where 
Esther  still  stood,  holding  out  her  hands  in  a  very 
kindly  manner.  "My  dear,"  she  said,  "I've  come  to 
ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

Esther  could  only  gasp  out  "Lady  Charlotte!"  and 
say  no  more. 

"You  may  well  be  astonished,"  said  Lady  Char- 
lotte, kissing  her  with  decision.  "I've  not  asked  any- 
body's pardon  for  more  years  than  I  quite  like  to 
count  But  Lisa  has  brought  me  to  a  better  mind, 
my  dear,  by  asking  mine.  I  feel  as  if  I  owed  an 
apology  to  everyone  in  the  world  after  that." 

But  seeing  that  Esther  still  could  not  speakz  she 
adopted  a  softer  tone. 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  269 

"And  my  dear,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  tell  you  that  I 
am  very  sorry  for  your  cousin's  death."  She  found 
some  difficulty  in  going  on,  and  cleared  her  throat 
rather  loudly,  but  seeing  Esther's  eyes  fixed  upon 
her  as  if  in  doubt,  she  made  a  valiant  effort  to  over- 
come her  pride.  "I  think  I  was  perhaps  hard  upon 
him  once  or  twice.  There's  no  knowing;  many  a 
man  mends  as  he  grows  older,  and  I  was  sorry  to  hear 
that  he  was  dead."  It  was  poor  comfort  but  it  was  all 
she  had  to  give. 

"You  saw  him  that  last  day,"  said  Esther,  rather 
hoarsely.  "He  was  in  trouble,  they  said — " 

"Only  about  the  rejection  of  a  manuscript  by  Mr. 
Dorian,  my  dear.  I  can  assure  you  of  that.  I  called  to 
see  him  on  a  business  matter,  and  we  discussed  the 
book  a  little.  That  was  all." 

"He  may  not  have  been  very  good,  very  worthy," 
said  Esther  with  a  little  sob,  "but  he  was  the  only  rela- 
tion I  had  in  the  world,  and  now — now — " 

"Now  you  are  all  alone.  But  you  needn't  be  always 
alone,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  drawing  her  to  the  sofa 
and  making  her  sit  down  beside  her.  "You  will 
marry." 

"No,"  said  Esther,  shortly  and  decisively. 

"My  dear,  Justin  Thorold  has  come  home." 

Esther  said  nothing  but  colored  to  the  roots  of  her 
hair. 

"And  he's  as  mad  after  you  as  ever,"  quoth  Lady 
Charlotte. 

Esther  made  a  movement  as  if  to  go,  but  Lady 
Charlotte  detained  her. 


270  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

"He  is  very  lonely  and  miserable  in  that  old  house 
of  Hurst,  and  I  believe  he'll  lose  his  career  completely, 
unless  some  good  woman  gets  hold  of  him  and  makes 
him  settle  down  and  do  his  work.  Esther,  I  have  come 
here  to  ask  if  you  will  be  that  woman.  Do  you  remem- 
ber you  said  once  that  you  would  not  marry  him  un- 
less I  asked  you  to  do  it,  or  something  of  that  sort? 
Well  now  I  ask  you,  and  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear, 
for  all  the  unkind  things  I  said  to  you,  although  I 
think  you  laid  yourself  open  to  them,  you  know,  by 
being  such  a  little  fool  as  to  let  your  cousin  lead  you 
into  any  sort  of  deception.  Well,  well,  we've  done 
with  that  now  have  we  not?  I  always  liked  you, 
Esther,  and  was  sorry  when  we  fell  out.  But  now 
that  Justin  has  come  home  what  do  you  say?" 

"Can  I  answer  anybody  but  Mr.  Thorold  himself?" 
asked  Esther. 

"That's  answer  enough  to  my  thinking.  We  women 
understand  each  other.  He  shall  have  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  I  hope  you  won't  keep  him  waiting,  my 
dear.  Kiss  me,  and  say  that  you  bear  no  malice." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  be  friends  with  you,  Lady  Char- 
lotte." 

"Yes,  and  Esther" — Lady  Charlotte's  voice  quiv- 
ered a  little,  as  Esther  had  never  heard  it  quiver  be- 
fore, "you  will  not  find  me,  I  hope,  so  hard  to  deal 
with  as  I  have  been  in  days  gone  by.  You  know  you 
will  have  to  put  up  with  a  good  bit  of  my  company  if 
you  come  to  Hurst,  and  as  Westhills  will  be  Justin's 
one  day,  you  will  be  forced  to  spend  part  of  your  time 
there  with  me.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  think  I  am 


THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE.  271 

not  quite  the  same.  I  have  had  a  lesson — a  hard 
lesson,  and  I  shall  perhaps  be  the  better  for  it  by  and 
by.  I  want  you  to  be  to  me,  Esther,  all  that  I  ever 
hoped  of  Lisa,  when  she  was  a  child  at  my  knee  and 
we  had  not  begun  to  chafe  one  another.  Perhaps  I 
shall  make  a  better  kinswoman  to  you  and  to  your 
children  than  I  did  to  her.'' 

"Lisa  loves  you,"  said  Esther,  impulsively  putting 
her  arm  round  the  stately  neck,  "and  I  love  you  too." 

"God  bless  you,  my  dear!"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
and  there  was  a  tear  in  her  eye  as  she  returned  the 
kiss. 

"Now,"  she  added,  "you've  just  time  to  change 
your  dress,  and  be  carried  off  to  Brook  Street  before 
dinner.  We've  come  up  to  London  for  a  little  while, 
you  know.  Run  away  and  make  haste;  there  are 
one  or  two  people  coming  to  dine,  so  we  mustn't  be 
late." 

"But,  Lady  Charlotte,  I  have  no  dress  that's  suit- 
able for  a  dinner  party.  Besides — I  am  not  going 
out—" 

"Nonsense,  it's  not  a  dinner  party,  and  any  dress 
will  do.  Make  haste,  my  dear;  I  told  James  to  call 
for  me  at  half-past  six,  and  I  daresay  he  is  waiting 
now." 

Esther  disappeared  with  some  misgivings  into  her 
bed  room,  and  came  back  in  a  thin  black  gauze  over 
silk  at  which  Lady  Charlotte  looked  with  critical  dis- 
satisfaction. "Oh,  yes,  it's  good  enough,"  she  said,  as 
Esther  expressed  a  doubt  of  its  suitability,  "but  it 
doesn't  suit,  you  know.  Black's  not  your  color.'' 


272  THE   LADY   CHARLOTTE. 

"But  I  am  in  mourning,"  said  Esther. 

Lady  Charlotte  stopped  short.  "I  beg  your  pardon, 
dear,"  she  said  so  humbly  and  quietly  that  Esther 
was  amazed. 

But  by  the  time  they  reached  the  drawing-room 
at  Brook  Street  Esther's  cheeks  were  aglow  with  the 
old  scarlet  flame  that  used  to  make  her  beautiful,  and 
the  lack  of  color  in  her  costume  was  remedied  by  the 
glow  of  her  face  and  eyes.  At  first  she  saw  nothing; 
the  room  was  in  a  haze,  but  she  heard  Mr.  Byng's 
voice  speaking  kindly  to  her,  and  she  felt  her  hand 
shaken  by  two  or  three  people  in  succession.  And 
when  at  last  she  could  look  up,  she  saw  that  she  had 
been  placed  in  a  low  chair  in  an  alcove,  rather  away 
from  the  little  group  that  surrounded  Lady  Charlotte 
at  the  fireplace,  and  that  Justin  Thorold  was  standing 
close  beside  her,  and  bending  down  to  speak. 

"I  am  to  take  you  in  to  dinner,  if  you  will  let  me," 
he  said.  "But  not  yet — tell  me  just  whether  you 
object,  whether  you  would  rather  Captain  Gethen 
took  you  in?  It  has  been  left,  I  think,  between  him 
and  me." 

"I  would  rather  not  go  in  with  Captain  Gethen," 
she  said,  a  little  smile  hovering  about  the  corners  of 
her  lips. 

"Then  may  I  believe  also  that — some  day — you  will 
forgive  me  for  my  want  of  faith  in  you?" 

Her  voice  was  low,  but  it  seemed  to  Esther  as  if 
Lady  Charlotte  were  observing  her,  and  as  if  her  an- 
swer would  be  unavoidably  distinct.  Dinner  was  an- 
nounced at  that  moment  and  Mr.  Thorold  offered  her 


THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE.  273 

his  arm;  but  his  face  wore  so  unmistakable  a  look 
of  disappointment  that  she  could  not  help  murmur- 
ing as  they  crossed  the  hall  together: 

"I  forgave  you  long  ago." 

His  face  changed  completely,  and  for  a  moment 
he  placed  his  hand  over  the  fingers  that  lay  so  lightly 
upon  the  other  arm.  "You  make  me  happy  when  you 
say  so;  will  you  not  some  day  make  me  happier 
still?" 

Surely  there  was  never  an  odder  time  or  place  for  a 
proposal  of  marriage;  yet  it  was  made  and  accepted 
in  the  course  of  that  transit  from  drawing  to 
dining  room.  And  both  Esther  and  Justin  thought 
that  they  had  never  been  at  such  a  delightful  dinner- 
party before;  although  on  examination  it  was  proved 
conclusively  at  a  later  date  that  neither  of  them  knew 
who  had  been  present,  what  they  had  eaten  or  drunk, 
or  what  anybody  had  talked  about. 

In  due  time  Hurst  was  gladdened  by  the  arrival  of 
a  mistress,  and  few  persons  who  had  the  privilege  of 
being  received  there  by  that  brilliant  and  fascinating 
little  lady  would  have  recognized  in  her  the  care- 
worn, somber-hued  teacher  who  had  plodded  home- 
ward one  wintry  night  to  find  Lady  Charlotte  await- 
ing her  in  her  shabby  sitting-room. 

"I  was  a  veritable  fairy  godmother,  my  dear,"  that 
lady  sometimes  says  to  her.  ''I  transformed  you  into 
a  fairy  princess  all  at  once,  and  I  hope  you  are  grate- 
ful to  me." 

But  although  she  laughs  and  jests  about  the  matter, 
Lady  Charlotte's  eyes  have  a  trick  of  growing  sober 


274  THE    LADY    CHARLOTTE. 

when  she  speaks  of  Esther's  marriage  and  sometimes 
she  sighs  a  little  unawares.  And  Esther  is  sorry  for 
her,  believing  in  her  heart  that  she  is  sad  for  want 
of  Lisa,  who  nevertheless  has  most  certainly  found 
her  vocation,  and  is  far  happier  than  she  would  have 
been  in  Lady  Charlotte's  company  at  Westhills.  But 
Esther,  tenderly  as  Lady  Charlotte  regards  her,  is  not 
in  all  the  secrets  of  the  house.  She  would  not  be 
surprised  indeed  to  hear  that  Lisa  still  murmurs  in- 
stinctively at  her  prayers  the  name  of  the  man  she 
loved;  but  she  would  be  amazed  beyond  expression 
if  she  were  told  that  Lady  Charlotte  has  mourned  for 
no  one  in  her  life  as  she  still  mourns  for  Arthur  Elli- 
son. 


THE   END. 


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